At first, the sirens were unremarkable. When you live just a few blocks from the volunteer fire company, you grow accustomed to the bleating and wailing as engines speed past. By the same token, you also recognize when the customary becomes extraordinary.
The longer your senses are assaulted by the noise, the more you notice that this is not a typical response. One minute, three minutes, seven, twelve – how long can they continue coming? You send up a prayer for whoever is on the receiving end of that much help. You selfishly hope your loved ones are safe. You try to wrangle your racing thoughts into submission. And then, the phone rings.
Minutes after it began, a raging fire of suspected electrical origin claimed the life of a 90-year-old barn at Pot Pie Farm. It was a summer holiday week and the owners’ family, from both coasts, had come together to celebrate. Five children under the age of ten, the oldest of whom managed their own meanderings on the nine acre property, were among those gathered…