This red light always takes forever, I swear. Green, yet? Nope, still red.

Wow, that is a lot of smoke. Oh, sugar-honey-ice-tea. Those are flames; no they’re not, that’s an illusion. The reflection from the stoplight is—at least that’s not my house, it must be the house next to—the light is green. Step on it, Anna. Where is the freaking gas ped—found it. I see a cop and I see flames. Oops, I need to watch the road; I’m driving.

How did I get here? I am now conversing with a police officer and my car is parked perpendicular to his car. My car is also blocking the fire hydrant but in my mind it’s all right, since the only thing that is coming out of my mouth is word-vomit in the form of something that sounds like “it’s my house, it’s my house, it’s my house.” Special privileges should be given. Oh geez, did I even put my car in park? Okay, I should probably get back in my car, park across the street, and then get back over here.

I’m moving, I think. I’m running, I think. I feel like the Michelin Man if the Michelin Man was made of Jell-O. I can’t feel my—who is this guy? I do not want to look to the left; I might make eye contact. No, really, who is this guy? Dammit, I looked at him. Anna, focus. I have a mission to accomplish and right now it’s just making it across the street. I need to find my family. He is kind of cute, though.

Neighbors are in their pajamas standing in front of their own houses, but where is my family? They’re talking about me; I can hear a voice mentioning “the other daughter” I am assuming is referring to me. I am the only girl sprinting (what happened to the unidentified boy next to me?) down the street blocked by the three fire trucks. It’s 11:30 at night, so I hope they weren’t sleeping. Oh my God, I just heard the sound I needed to hear. My mama’s familiar voice came from right behind me and she was standing next to my younger sister. Oh right, I forgot my dad was out camping at the lake for a few days. That’s a relief. No, scratch that; it’s not a relief! Who has to make the phone call to him and tell him that his wife and kids are at home and our house is in flames?

Stop, drop and roll. Call 911. I am the only one that can prevent forest fires. Why am I the only one that can prevent forest fires? Are these the only safety steps that Smokey the Bear had to offer? Come on Smokey, I am clueless right now. All I can think to do is deny that this is really happening. I want to scream, but I am not sure if that is an appropriate reaction.

My mother is telling me something but nothing is being comprehended. Everything my mother is saying is going in one ear and right out the other. I need to sit down on this curb right here. I’m picturing my six-year-old-self staring up at a fireman. That wide-eyed little girl was asked what to do if ever encountered by a fire. She answered incorrectly, as did all of her kindergarten peers, when she started to list the things that she would save. It was wrong to save anything but yourself. I can understand where the confusion came from since the only knowledge I had about fire came from Tom and Jerry cartoons. The firemen on TV saved everything from burning, and now I’m being told that my cat, my blanky, and my Teddy Ruxpin now had to find their own way out of a fire. I was heartbroken as a six-year-old, and that same feeling is coming over me twelve years later.

What would I save now? It’s that age-old question that everyone has been asked at some point in his or her life, but very few experience the chance to answer it. I certainly missed my chance when I was at the movie theater earlier that night, probably right as the fire started. Shoot, my best friends were right behind me on the way home—oh good, there they are. Kelly, Matt, and Ryan are all here. Fold-up chairs are being offered to us from every angle so it looks like we should take advantage and sit in them instead of trying to figure out what to say to each other. This is odd, it’s like we are just having a typical, summer night and sitting around a campfire like we’ve done countless times before. This is just another event before we all leave each other in a few weeks to start college.

No one knows what to say, they just offer everything they can. My mother is wearing a silk nighty, a bathrobe, and slippers. How did she even think to put slippers and a robe on? Apparently, she missed that day in kindergarten about fire safety. Our new neighbor across the street from us, is a petite woman with long blonde hair and I can’t help but stare at the horrified look on her face as she takes me by the hand and drags me inside of her home. My mom is already inside the house, now wearing navy blue scrubs and writing something down on a piece of paper. I didn’t recognize my own mother until she spoke to me, I never see her in anything outside of her usual pastels and pearls. Unsure of what is going on exactly, I keep following the blonde lady around her house and into her daughter’s room. I have never met this woman or her daughter, yet she is giving me a garbage bag full of shirts, shorts, pants, swim suits; I don’t think she even knows what she’s putting in the bag anymore, she’s just dumping garments as fast as she can. There are now three of us collecting items, crying hysterically and trying to move quickly. As uncomfortable as it is for the three of us (my neighbor, my mother and myself) to be sobbing in unison, the discomfort is heightening as we are also attempting to work together efficiently through our symphony of sniffs and sobs. I really want to start laughing. (There really is no reason to be hurrying like we are, but taking our leisure time seems morally wrong.) I am out of ideas, so I start to giggle. I have never had the opportunity to laugh and cry simultaneously before now. I feel like I need to cherish this rare moment.

In a flash, I am back outside getting pelted with waves of heat.