Chapter Five
Fire and Ashes
Even though we had moved to Paintsville, Salyersville would always be home.
We still traveled there for holidays and festivals. One Fourth of July, we went to the celebration around the courthouse—food, vendors, family, friends, dancing, and fireworks.
I remember standing on the courthouse steps when a police officer walked up and quietly asked to speak with my parents.
Within seconds, Mom and Dad were hurrying us toward the car.
Once we were inside, Dad told us our house was on fire.
When we arrived back in Paintsville, our home was gone.
As a child, I didn't think about furniture or clothes. I thought about my teddy bear. Mom and Dad had given it to me when I was about five. I had loved it until Mom had to stitch it back together. I had left it on my bed.
Now it was gone.
For a little while, we stayed with family. But my parents were proud people and didn't want to overstay their welcome.
So we moved into our van.
For the next three months, that van became our home. We'd shower at my sister's house. Mom heated water over a fire so we could wash our faces before school. We brushed our teeth with bottled water.
One day, my teacher asked about the fire and I told her we were living in our van. When I got off the bus later, my teacher, principal, and social workers were there. I was terrified that I had done something wrong. They were simply checking to make sure we were safe.
Looking back, I understand how difficult those months must have been for my parents.
At the time, I remember the campfire, food cooked over an open flame, and Dad telling stories about growing up.
One of the hardest seasons of our lives also gave me some of my favorite memories.
A house can burn to the ground. Possessions can disappear overnight.
But home is built by the people who refuse to let go of one another when everything else is gone.
For three months, our home was a van parked beside the ashes of the life we had lost.
And somehow, it was enough.