Monday, November 19, 2007
The year was 2001. One day in the summer, we had a dry thunder storm, and it was just a quick one. Nobody thought much of it. The sky didn't even really get dark. But about 30 minutes after the storm had ended, I started hearing all these sirens and seeing a bunch of fire trucks going past our street up to the mountain.
I wanna know what's going on, especially since now there's a black pillar of smoke rising above the trees a little ways up the mountain. And it looks like it's coming from Boom's house. So I grab my cell phone and some water and head up there. (I was the only one home, and this was before I had my license.)
It's kind of a long walk from my house up to Boom-Baba's, but I cut that time approximately in half by running part of the way. I don't want to get there too late for the action!
As soon as a rounded the last bend I got a sinking feeling. It was most definitely Boom's house. As I hiked up the steep hill they called a driveway, the smoke smell became so thick I could practically taste the 200-year-old farmhouse wood.
Upon seeing an idle fireman, I went up to him and asked him with some trepidation whether there was anybody inside. Not as far as they knew, he told me. That didn't dispel my worry about Boom and his family, but then Boom himself showed up. He explained that everyone had been out, and that the only victims were a couple of kittens who had been trapped inside. Sad.