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.