I've been working hard.
It's hard though, writing about the fire. It's emotional, so so emotional.
I relive the moments before the fire as though I can actually know that innocence again. I relive the panic and fear in the moments after, moments that are truly burned into my memory. I can see myself sitting in my friend's living room not wanting to go into their guest room to watch the fire unfold live on television. I can still feel the hope in my heart that we would have a home to return to the next day.
I can still smell the propane and burned plastic that lingered in the air for weeks. I can feel the fiberglass shards in my throat. The ash floats in the air and continues to burn my eyes.
I go there in my mind when I write, reliving the joy, the fear, the hope, the pain, the heartbreak.
But ultimately it's cathartic. Mostly.