A week or so ago, there was a house on fire across the alley when I was coming home from work. I did not want to be a Looky-Lou (behavior I find appalling, I mean, who goes and watches someone's house burn?), but it couldn't be avoided. Every single time I turned down a different street, it was blocked off by a fire truck, so I finally went down the alley and then the wrong way down Ravenswood to get home. This took me right past the actual house on fire, where I saw no leaping flames or puppies being tossed from windows (is THAT what people want to see?), just lots of water, actually. I kind of forgot about it afer that.
Today we were out for a walk with Sam. As we approached the house, I mentioned to Stephen that there had been a fire recently. The house is one of those really ugly mausoleum houses that everyone is building, and now I'm at least beginning to understand why- the ONLY outward sign of damage was one boarded-up window. That was it. Amazing. As we walked past the house, there was some garbage outside the house. A big pile of Legos, half of them melted together. Some other stuff. And finally, propped up against the deck, was a crib mattress. Half burned.
I would imagine it was unoccupied at the time of the fire. There were no ambulances there when I drove by. Plus, I don't feel like like you'd leave that propped against your deck if it had been occupied at the time of the fire. It doesn't matter. Tell me you wouldn't spend the rest of your life imagining what would've happened if the fire started in the middle of the night, if the baby took a late nap that day, if if if if.