October 17, 2002
Reba Street is where it's at this early Thursday morning. I was driving home from work and as I approached our little, quiet cul de sac, I noticed flashing lights coming from fire trucks blocking off our little street. I thought maybe one of our little old neighbors had called an ambulance or something. I had to park out on the main street and walk home. As I got out of the car and started walking, I realized that there was in fact a fire. I got a little nervous, prayed it wasn't our house, and asked one of the firemen winding up a hose where the fire was. "At the corner house," he said, with a smile. "You'll see it...." The garage burned down to a black charred skeleton. How scary. As I said before, I used to be scared when I heard ambulances growing up, that my house was on fire and they were heading over to put it out, even if I was at my house and there was no evidence of a fire. I have always been scared of waking up to a fire. It happened to our neighbors last night. I wonder if they caught it first, or if one of the other neighbors did. They have a few young kids. How very scary. I hope there house was okay. I can hear them cutting down the left overs with their chain saw right now. Yep, lots of action over here this morning. I am off to bed.
