The calendar says it happened tomorrow. But I know it happened on a Wednesday night a year ago today. I know the first 911 call came in at 7:48 p.m. and I know a short time later a friend came and pulled me out of choir practice with the words, “Go home. Your apartment is on fire.”
What now? Now I do pretty good most days. I can now go days instead of hours without thinking of everything that has happened over the past year. I can search for missing items and not have to doubt if it’s really missing or if was lost in the fire and I need to stop looking.
One day I’ll be able to be around a lit candle without wanting to blow it out. One day I can be around a bonfire or a grill and not feel every hair on my the back of my neck stand on end. One day I’ll enjoy the fireworks on the Fourth of July and not have a panic attack.
One day I’ll be able to look back over this time in my life and not shed a tear. One day I’ll be able to go through the last few bags and boxes that I stuffed in a corner and prayed would disappear. One day I’ll be able to go through them and say good bye to what’s inside. I won’t ever have to say good bye to the memory they are attached to.
Nothing can burn that away.