Chapter 3: The First Fire

“Walk straight outside. There’s a fire in the garage.”

What cannot be said will be wept.

― Sappho

Mom said she thought it was a cat getting into the trash cans. I thought that was weird because a cat had never gotten into our trash cans before. There weren't that many cats around. And how would they have gotten into our crammed-tight garage?

Mom said a lot of things that would make sense for normal people to say. People in TV shows or books.

We were not normal people. 
We did not make sense. 

But whatever Mom heard woke her in the night. Moved her off the couch where she slept, waiting for every last one of her ten children to get home safe. Down the crusty, brown carpeted stairs to where a single door opened to the garage from the inside. When Mom opened that door she saw the fire. Her arm jerked back. Her body leaned away. She froze for less than a second before she was back up the stairs, yelling for my dad. 

When she woke my sister and me, it was matter of fact. No panic in her voice. 

“Walk straight outside. There’s a fire in the garage.”