Tyler Stephenson
Friday, May 29th, 2015 is a day that I will always remember no matter how long I live. It was a sunny summer’s day and school was 2 weeks away from getting out. I was in the seventh grade at Robious Middle School and still a young, somewhat innocent child of twelve years old. I got on my bus, route 6, to take me home for the day and I was excited for what the upcoming weekend would hold. My mom was in Mississippi on a spa resort trip with some of her work friends so that meant one thing, guys weekend. Just my two little brothers, my dad, and myself all weekend doing as much “guy stuff” as our heart so desired.
As I was pulling out of the road my middle school was located on, I remember seeing a fire truck race past, lights flashing and sirens blaring. Thinking nothing of it I blew it off, I see fire trucks all the time so I had absolutely no reason to think twice about it, just another unfortunate person’s house up in flames, why should I care, right? I keep laughing and joking with my friends and we’re probably making farting noises or something to that effect on the back of the bus as I pull into my neighborhood. My house is arranged in the back corner of my neighborhood and as my bus was pulling in, i noticed an ominously thick cloud of smoke rising up from over the treetops, around the area of my house. As my bus pulled down the street my heart sank at the sight. As I stepped out of my house, I saw smoke rolling out of the windows and firemen bustling in and out of my house with their houses. I stood in the street, my feet glued to the pavement, I watched the house I grew up in, for my whole life, up in flames in front of my eyes. My mind was racing, and I felt like I couldn't move. My heart was pounding and I was gasping for breath, destroyed. It seemed as though I was watching everything happen from a distance even though I was in a 100 foot radius of my house, almost like it wasn’t real, or movie-like. Once I somewhat gathered my thoughts, my mind immediately started racing. Where was my dad? Was he okay? Where is my dog? Did my dog somehow get out of the house? At this moment, my father came running out of my neighbors house and my dog was close behind him. I was beyond relieved and grateful The rest of the day was a complete blur.
I had to be the one to break the news to my brothers. My middle brother, in fourth grade at the time, started crying and my youngest brother, in kindergarten, didn’t really understand what happened. That night, my brothers and dad stayed at their friends’ house and I stayed with a friend of mine. Until the school year was over, so about two weeks, I lived in a hotel with my family. Eventually we found a nice rent house in Salisbury, and a year later I was back in my fully renovated, brand new house. Throughout this whole incident, I learned to be grateful for what I have and never take anything for granted. In that moment, I could have lost my dad, my dog, or my whole house, rather than just the upstairs. For the following week after the fire, I only had the clothes on my back and a few that my friends let me borrow, yet I was so accustomed to having a new outfit to where everyday. I was used to getting off the bus and walking into a fully intact house and laying down in my clean bed for a nap. That could have all been taken from me in a matter of a few minutes.
All in all, from 7th grade, this is pretty much the only situation I remember in detail, it devastated me. It truly put everything in perspective for me. It showed me that I needed to be grateful for everything I was blessed with in life and to spend time with the ones I love. It taught me that nothing in life is guaranteed because anything could happen at any moment. It taught me to cherish everything I hold near and dear to my heart. When I walked out of my house that Friday morning, it could have been the last time I told my dad bye, or the last time I pet my dog on the head. My whole life could have taken a 180 and never been the same. This incident completely changed my outlook on life.