I don’t know the term for when your house is technically still standing but is so full of smoke and water that you can barely go inside. When there are rooms you are legally no longer permitted to enter so you don’t destroy evidence for the insurance company. When your photos and paintings are technically intact but so full of carcinogens that you can’t handle them without gloves.
It didn’t quite burn down, but it feels like it did.
Last week there was a significant structure fire in my house. It was an accidental electrical fire caused by rats chewing on the wires in our attic. Did you know that rats cause a significant number of house fires in the U.S.? I didn’t.
I was home when it happened. I called 911, grabbed my dog, my safe with cash and our birth certificates, my laptop, and one Photo Booth image of my family. I have a rule to never pass up a Photo Booth. I turned off the breakers in my home and in my studio. I moved my car across the street so the fire truck could get closer, then I parked and waited.
I wanted more. Every spare moment, I’m mapping the house with every heirloom and priceless bauble. The photos from my son’s ultrasound, my grandmother’s rolling pin, the last quilt my husband’s great grandmother ever stitched. My son’s favorite stuffed animal, Puppy, of course. I would’ve gotten that first. I didn’t want to leave my dog alone in a hot car on an 80° day, so I didn’t go in. My family needed me more than they needed their hotwheels collection, anyway.
My online sale was scheduled for two days later, so I was doing computer work from the couch. The windows were open because it was a beautiful day. If they hadn’t been open to let smoke from the roof inside, I wouldn’t have noticed anything. I went outside to check the smell. Our neighbor was in her yard, so I assumed they were having a cookout. I thought I was being paranoid or procrastinating until I saw smoke billowing from the roof.
So, what’s next?
Homeowners insurance is doing a lot. I didn’t have business insurance, which feels incredibly stupid. It has been sitting at the bottom of my to-do list for three years, since I was pregnant with my son. It never felt urgent. A house fire felt like more of my OCD-fueled paranoia, a fever dream rather than something that could actually happen. Like a devastating hurricane hitting Appalachia.
We are currently renting a house and renting furniture. I am replacing what we need, but not too much, because I do not want to move it again. We will likely be out of our home for a year.
My son was in school when the fire happened, thank God. He is okay. He is my little joy baby who keeps us from sitting too long or falling too far into a dark hole.
Our immediate needs are met. We are staying with dear friends who have generously opened their home to us. Our son is loving the perpetual sleepover, as is our dog. We have replaced almost all of his clothes and toys. On Saturday he rode a train and got a balloon animal. On Sunday he had his face painted and picked out three brand new toys from the store, all cars.
We will be okay. Our community is holding us and for now the systems we have in place are too.
My biggest concern right now is that I will likely be unable to work for several months. My studio is structurally sound and the work is safe, but every single item needs to be thrown away or professionally cleaned, as does the entire space and the attic above it. A lot will need to be discarded, including many of my tools, fabric goods, tech, and open containers.
Porcelain, thank God, is strong and durable and easy to clean. It will outlive me by a long shot. My pots will be fine, but it will take time.
So on my behalf, my good friends are launching a GoFundMe - and this may be the part I hate the very most. I’m not sure what the future looks like, but I know that if there is a moment to ask for support - this is it.
I also know that we are going to be okay. I’ve never been more certain.
