A Defining Moment

About this time of the year in 1989, my parents home caught fire from a lightning strike.

I was 26 years old.

I can only tell my version of events, as I wasn't there. I was at the movies with my aunt. I am sure that, if someone else were to read this, they would beg to differ.

As I understand it, my parents were home that warm July day when a storm came up. There was no thunder, but the lightning bolt sizzled through the house. My parents both felt it hit the house.

They began looking for damage and discovered the attic on fire. The lightning had hit the side of the garage and a fire ball raced through the attic, setting the entire roof on fire. The bolt also split a tree beside the house.

They called the fire department, which, being volunteer and miles away, meant a bit of a wait until help arrived.

The firemen managed to save some of the walls. What content didn't burn was of course damaged by smoke and water. It was a total loss.

My parents were naturally very devasted by this event. My brother, scheduled to be married the following month, still lived at home, so he lost a lot of things also. I had been gone for six years, but I had books, dolls and other items, including my wedding dress, stored in a chest in my parents' garage. All of that burned and could not be salvaged.

Those are pretty much the facts of the story.

My aunt and I had been to see Dead Poet's Society at the theater. As I was driving home down the interstate near the Daleville exit, I noticed a lot of smoke off in the distance. I recall thinking to myself that something was really burning.

I arrived home and nearly as soon as I entered the kitchen the phone rang. My husband, a firefighter for a different jurisdiction, was on duty. He was also breathless. "Thank God you're home!" he exclaimed. "Your parents' house is on fire."

He was at work, of course. I hung up and climbed in the car. I was driving a 1983 Ford Thunderbird at the time. I pushed the car hard the six miles to my parents' house - so much so I could smell the brakes burning. I feared for their safety and of course I had no idea what was going on. I knew I had seen so much smoke. I prayed they would be okay.

This was, of course, before cell phones.

I raced up the driveway and found a line of cars. Neighbors had gathered to gawk, and the firemen had arrived in their own vehicles as well as in fire trucks. Smoke was no longer billowing, but they were still spraying water on the debris that used to be the home I grew up in. I parked some distance away and ran toward the house.