A near tragedy

I prefer to walk in the cover of darkness. The melodic chirps of the cricket and the occasional melancholy cooing of the mourning dove add to the soothing peacefulness of the countryside. In the distance, lights illuminate front porches, and children’s voices are heard as they journey home from a playmate’s house. The lights from the town below sparkle brightly against the dark canvas of the night sky. For that that brief period, all is right with the world.

Walking at night relaxes me, and helps me focus on the manuscript I’m working on. My driveway is ½ mile long, so there’s really no worry about being hit by a car or abducted. Yeah right. My captors would bring me back after five minutes, and then check themselves into the local mental institution.

It’s during these walks though, that strange things occur. I’ve had two dogs re-appear I had given up on; my neighbor scared the heck out of me at Christmas when she followed me down the drive in her car to give me a present. Tonight was no exception.

I was on my second trip down the driveway, when I saw an orange glow in the pasture near my house, and the unmistakable smell of smoke in the air. Fire!

Texas is in a severe drought, and the vegetation is tinder-dry. A car parked on the side of the road with the motor running, or a cigarette flicked out of a car by a careless soul can be devastating.

I felt everything was in slow motion, and my legs felt like they belonged to someone else, as I ran down the drive back to my house. I flung open the front door, hurdled the toddler playing on the floor, and jogged to my bedroom. “I’m going to call the neighbors and 911, I called to John as I passed him in the kitchen. I can’t believe how calm I was. I knew if I acted excited, it would do nothing but upset the children. I didn’t want them to know the fire was less then 300 yards away, and growing.

John followed me to the bedroom, as I expected, looked out the window and saw the fire. “You call 911, and I’ll call the neighbors on my cell,” he said.

Literally, within a couple of seconds, I heard the welcome voice of the 911 dispatcher.

“911, what’s your emergency?”

“There’s a large grass fire on the --------- ranch,” I gasped.

“Yes madam. That’s already been called in. The trucks have been dispatched and should arrive shortly. Please call us back and alert us if any structures are in danger,” she soothed.

“Yeah! My house!”

“I’m sorry. You said your house was in danger?” The operator’s voice rose a couple of octaves in alarm.

“Yes. The fire is 300 yards from my house and coming closer.” I heard the dispatcher call the fire trucks and relay the information. She again reassured me the trucks would be there soon. John and I went outside to watch and wait.

The fire had grown quite a bit. It was now billowing above the mesquite trees. I’ve never seen flames that high. It seemed like eternity, but soon we heard the wail of the fire trucks, and saw the flickering red and blue lights as they arrived on the scene. The silence of the night was broken by the sound of the fire chief barking commands to his men. Within minutes, the fire was out, and again, all was right with the world.

I can’t help but be misty-eyed this morning when I think of the brave men that so valiantly fought the blaze. Without a second thought, they left the comfort of their homes and families to battle a fire for someone they didn’t even know. They put their lives on the line for others and me. For that, I am eternally grateful.