As I stood there peering in through a chain link fence surrounding the pile of rubble, I couldn't imagine how someone's entire life could be turned to ashes in a matter of only 8 minutes. Wooden boards lie flat on the ground, still smoldering among the black soot as I looked at what is left of the Roxborough house fire.
The sky was a pale gray as we drove up to the site. The road half blocked by the metal chain link fence that surrounded the darkened, ghostly pile of embers. We parked directly on the other side of the home, and as I got out of the car the ash smelled of hot smoldering fire and a slow burning coal. Half melted cars still remain parked just as they were before the fire broke out, now blackened, twisted metal encompasses the outer edge of the vehicles.
The surviving trees swayed with the gentle summer breeze, half burned on one side, they seemed to lean inward toward what used to be a two-story home. I stared through the fence, hands clasped to the cool metal realizing that what was left in front of me was hardly anything for that big of a house. A few kitchen pots teeter on the edge of a scorched log, as remnants of clothes blew quietly among the ash of burned timber. Standing taller than anything was the outline of the front door, the wood still holding strong, burned, blackened with residue, but still very visible. The remains of the fireplace hearth still remained in the middle of the wreckage, and a small desk coved in black, legs practically gone still stood tall among dust.
Neighbors rustled around, taking time to watch the spectators who lined their cars up and down the street. On-lookers came with cameras and cards, pictures, and memories, some sticking flowers in between the slats of the cold fence while others stood in amazement glaring at what seemed impossible.
My parents were on the Volunteer Fire department for many years and they told me they never saw anything quite like this before. They fought many fires and saw numerous burning buildings, but nothing that turned to ash in such a short frame of time.
That evening I read everything tied to that fence and looked carefully at all the memorabilia that lined the street. Heavy hearted, I studied the pictures of those who never made it out of the house that night and read what their lives were like, getting an image of who they were.
As we slowly made our way back to our car I stumbled across 2 small bowls of dog food and water. Beside was a message, a prayer, a plea to anyone who can find their black and white border-collie mix named Sprocket.
For me, life seems to continue to go by faster every day, but for some life ends much too quickly. I guess I don't realize just how mortal we all are until something so unimaginable and horrific happens, such as this tragedy. We came from dust; we will return to dust.
"In the sweat of thy face shalt thou eat bread, till thou return unto the ground; for out of it wast thou taken, for dust thou art, and unto dust shalt thou return." -Genesis 3:19