This morning I got up, went downstairs, opened the front door to let the dog out, and saw, to my astonishment, two ambulances parked in front of my house. Bright red vans across the street. A police car with flashing lights. What the heck? (Dog didn't care. He scampered off to find the squeaky toy he'd left in the yard last night)
So I went out to the back yard, and looked down the side street (My house is on a corner) and this is what I saw:
Fire is such a hideously scary thing. It is now a couple of hours later and the street is still blocked off, firefighters still at work, and rumor has it that they got the occupants out alive, though I did see a fireman being taken to an ambulance by stretcher.
Tonight, as I have done each year for several years, I will speak to a class at the Harvard Graduate School of Education. Last year (I cringe, remembering this) I had written it down on my calendar for the wrong night, and was home, in grubby jeans, mindlessly watching TV, when I got a call saying, "Ah, where are you?" So off I sped and arrived looking grubby, and twenty minutes late.
Tonight I will get there EARLY. And tonight Jack Gantos and Mitali Perkins will also be guests of the class and we'll have dinner together afterwards. Should be fun.
But I will keep thinking abut the occupants of that hosue---where they are now, with Christmas coming---