The cocoon

I am clutching my daughter Kyra, now wrapped in a blanket generously offered by a neighbour. This same kind neighbour is carrying Jaden and I am following her to her house. “Come, bring the children to sleep on my couch where they will be safe and warm,” I remember her saying.

Caleb is barking at her. He’s not sure what she is doing with my son. In fact, he is barking at anyone who wants to come close. He is in fierce protective mode now, though his heart is gentle and I know he could never hurt anybody.

Our quiet street is now humming and whirring with fire trucks. People with concerned and curious faces are leaving their warm beds and stepping into the cold. They shuffle closer to the bonfire of our house.

“Shhh…” I am trying to calm Caleb. I manage to mumble an apology to this sweet neighbour who is trying to help, and who I ashamedly don’t even know. “Don’t even worry about it, your dogs are welcome in our home, we have dogs too, we understand.” A voice of comfort and assurance, yet I’m becoming aware that I feel strangely numb and it’s getting harder to hear.

We journey away from the house.

I dare not look back. I need not look back.

My children and I nestle within blankets and pillows, warm and cuddled on this kind stranger’s couch. We are in an invisible Cocoon and everything on the outside seems muffled and blurred. I am in the womb of frozen time. The limbo between end and beginning.

My son Jaden says to me, “I guess I’m not going swimming tomorrow?” His school class is taking lessons. “No bud, not tomorrow….” I smile. Children are so grounded.

I feel a small tug on my sleeve. I look down into the big blue eyes of my soulful little girl. She whispers, “It’s a good thing we’re all safe….” I suddenly come out of the numbness of the cocoon and for a few seconds I feel the sting of what has just happened. How close we came….Yet at the same time her words of wisdom soothe me, for in her innocence she knows what’s eternally important.

But where is Sean? The last time I saw him we were still huddled on the neighbour’s porch. I hear his voice far away. He is apologizing for getting blood on the neighbour’s floor. I see him now in the kitchen, closer than he sounded. His hands and feet are raw and bleeding from frantically banging and kicking on the neighbours' door. Paramedics have come and are checking him out. “You might have smoke inhalation…” I hear them say. I want to go to him, but I cannot step out of The Cocoon. He sees me and we exchange a knowing look. We are all alive.

More people are filling the house; paramedics, firemen, policemen….They ask me to lock the dogs in another room. They are scared of them. How ironic I think. Scared of dogs who save lives? But I understand. They can`t know.

People are asking me questions and offering me tea. Am I answering them? I cannot tell.

I hear Sean’s uncle. He’s come to take us to his house. I am so grateful for his calming presence.

It’s time to leave this surreal scene. I’m making sure the kid’s are buckled in. We are half a block from the house. I catch a glimpse of the top floor and roof in flames. It feels like an illusion.

The police are telling Sean that he has to stay to answer more questions. I cannot bear to leave him here. I should be here. We should be together. But there seems no choice. The children need a quiet bed to sleep in.

I hug Sean. Am I saying anything? I think my lips are moving. He disappears into the collage of firemen, flashing lights, flames and fountains of water…..He forges on towards the battlefront while I retreat.

I’m back with the children in The Cocoon.

It is silent in here.

Consuming Fire

I wake up with a start, groggily aware of a strange feeling. Caleb, my sweet canine companion for over seven years, has pawed and nudged me out of my comfortable slumber. I realize I'm in our family room having dozed off on our sectional after an evening of hockey and American Idol.

Sean, my husband, is there also, in deep sleep. This couch, our favorite couch of all time, has admittedly wrapped us in its overstuffed pillows and lulled us to sleep on more than one occasion.

Caleb is panting. I subtly sense that this is not his usual "gotta go pee" wake-up call. I follow his gaze towards the large glass patio doors a few feet away. He is not running towards the doors like he normally does when he has to relieve himself.

Usually, I do not prance easily into alert coherence after the slow and rhythmic dance of sleep, but only seconds have passed and I am sensing...feeling...and keenly aware of...something....

I am moving towards the patio doors, covered by four beautiful suede long hanging drapes that had not been completely pulled together....between the slight cracks of material I see flashes....I want to investigate.

What's that? and instinctively I know it's not good...though I'm not registering yet why or how...

"Sean..." I try to wake my husband as I move closer to the mysterious flashes...

There is a growing ominous feeling welling up in me...curiosity is turning to alarm. "Sean!" I yell louder and louder and by this time I've reached the curtains and pull them apart.

In that second Sean wakes up, and both of us see the entire outside patio is on fire. The flames look ferocious, licking and groping their way from the bottom all the way to the top of our glass doors....

I am dumbfounded...a wall of fire??

Sean yells, "the kids!" and we both race upstairs, tripping over ourselves, to grab our four year girl and seven year old boy...there is no thought now, only adrenaline....children, safety, children, safety...like a heartbeat.

We split at the top of the stairs without a word, mother runs for daughter, father runs for son. Children, safety, children safety...

We race down the stairs. I reach out my hand towards the coat rack to snatch whatever I can as I run past. Even in these frantic moments, I am still maternally aware that my children will freeze in their pajamas in this cold winter weather. Children, safety, children safety...

We reach the front door and I hear the smoke alarm go off. Within a few more seconds we are outside in the driveway, bare feet and scantily clad, and in my hand only one small boy's jacket...

I call my two dogs, Caleb and Ryley, and they are there at my feet, as they always are.

Sean turns instantly to return to the house and see if he can grab the keys to the truck and whatever else time will allow....

...and it allows nothing...he returns seconds later with black soot on his face...already it is too late.

Only 30-40 seconds have passed since I first woke up.

I can hear the crackling of wood now. Sean runs to wake the neighbors. I pick up the kids and run across the street. Children, safety, children, safety...

I bang on the neighbors door directly across from our house. No answer. I hear a man running down the street with a cell phone, yelling our address into the phone. I collapse into a chair on the porch. A front row seat to the burning of our home.

After waking up our neighbours on one side, Sean is now racing to the other side, and not a moment too soon, because the fire has already reached their house. They have three boys. Two of the boys have their rooms closest to our house. I am starting to panic. "Please God, let them wake up." Sean is frantically banging and kicking the door for what seems like an eternity, until finally they stumble out.

The fire trucks are not here yet. Only minutes have passed, but when you are watching your life burn to the ground, they can't get there fast enough.

Now that we are all safe, my focus turns to the consuming fire. "Will nothing be salvaged?", I ask God. Hysterics are rising and seizing my throat. A voice comes from the back of my head..."It will all be gone, but you will remain"

My son is on my lap and turns to look at me. He's never heard these sounds come from me. It's his eyes that snap me out of my emotional downward spin.

I am now only aware of one thing....Love. My children, my husband, my dogs, our lives.

And so begins the birth pains of a new life.