Joe was tired too. Playing with Mattie was the most relaxing thing in his day. Hard labor was catching up to him, but he was still years from retirement. He was buff to be sure, but it didn't take him long to get to sleep either. He adjusted his large head on his pillow about four times, and he was out. His wife of nineteen years was now just three hours into her graveyard shift as a nurse. He and Mattie were fast asleep, both dreaming pleasantly.
At 3:22 a.m. the alarm went off. Joe normally got up early, but this morning he felt like he had only been asleep for ten minutes when he heard the alarm. He awoke in one of those completely disoriented states. He sat up and looked left, but didn't know which way he was looking, or where he was. He couldn't find the alarm clock. It was much louder than usual, but someone had moved it. He stood to his feet, his eyes not yet acclimated to being awake. He found it hard to breath. His lungs burned, then his eyes. This wasn't the alarm clock, he thought, though he hadn't yet concluded what the piercing noise was.
Joe and Mattie both slept with their doors open when Keisha was at work. By the time Joe figured out the source of the piercing annoyance, the fire had run past Mattie's door. It hadn't yet reached his, so he was able to stand in the hallway and shout toward the flames. "Mattie! Go out your window!" he screamed. "Mattie, do you hear me? Go out your window right now! Go! Go baby!"
Hoping against hope that she had heard him, he ran the opposite direction and bolted out the back door of the house. He ran straight to her window, still closed, and looked in. He saw smoke and didn't know if she would get hit with glass if he broke the window, but his hammer fist went straight through the pane, frames and all. He didn't feel the damage he did to his arm. He had many fleeting thoughts. Where is everybody? Why aren't the neighbors all up? Where are the fire trucks, the sirens? It had all happened so fast, neighbors were only now beginning to wake up, as disoriented as Joe was when he regained consciousness.
Sometime that afternoon, Joe and Mattie were released from the hospital with minor wounds. Eleven stitches in Joe's wrist was the worst of it. By the time they returned home, home was gone. Keisha was inconsolable. Mattie didn't understand. She just asked questions. Joe was strong, at least for now. He knew he had to be. He reassured his girls continuously.
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Something similar to the above story happened over twenty times last year in Danville. Every family has their unique story, and every house fire does its own level of damage. Every time I hear sirens, I am thankful for the services of the Danville Fire Department, the Danville Life-Saving Crew, and the American Red Cross.
Recently, our local Red Cross chapter was dissolved, and disaster services in our area were taken up by the chapters in Roanoke and Lynchburg. As they held ribbon-cutting ceremonies this week for the new Danville satellite office, many breathed a sigh of relief that their services would still be here, and probably better than ever.
The Red Cross finds temporary housing for displaced families, finds counseling when needed, serves as a liaison to insurance companies, and gives teddy bears to children. Of course, they do much more, but with little fanfare or gratitude -- except from the families they help.
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