Home Burned

I have told you stories about all of the fun and closeness that we were blessed with but there were also times that we experienced tragedies. The one that I am speaking of now is when our home burned to the ground when we lived at Stamford. All of us were fairly young--(that was where I started first grade in school.)
I think that the street that we lived on was Orient St.--don't know why I would know that but I do. Daddy worked the night shift in the oil field, so it was Mom and her 6 kiddo's at home. In the wee morning hours Mom heard a loud noise like something breaking coming from the kitchen. The door was closed going into the kitchen but she knew the sound came from there and immediately realized she smelled smoke. She jumped up and began hollering for us to wake up and get outside. we did not tarry, by the sound of her voice we knew this was serious stuff and ran outside only to be gripped by fear as we could see flames shooting up in the night sky. One of our neighbors had already called the fire dept. and they arrived soon after we were outside. The firemen began to spray the fire, one of them rushed inside to check that everyone was out (guess he didn't see Mom standing by us.)We were all crying- guess being frightened etc. I was crying for my doll that I had left behind in my bed. It was about 2 foot tall and I really loved her and slept with her. The fireman came rushing back out carrying a quilt with the doll inside of it, He felt it on the bed and just reacted I suppose but I was so thrilled that I had her back--smoke stained and all!
That was all that was saved from the burning house that was our home. To this day I recall the horrible scene of watching it burn, than crumble to the ground. It certainly left me with a fear of fires.
The fire Marshall determined later that he felt the fire had been "started" underneath the kitchen. They never could prove who did it but Daddy always thought that it was probably two men that he had fired from the job a few days before. Both men left town and were never seen again so Daddy was probably right..
The beauty of a small town is that they all work together, the people helped clean the property and haul away the burned remains..
Mom always took things as they came and she kept her spirits high which made all of us feel much better and we didn't suffer any ill effects from the experience.
Before long we had a home again and it was just another memory --not one that we cared for but still a memory.. Life is composed with the good times and not so good times --- this incident was sure one of the not so good times!
Through the years I have often wondered if the men that struck the match to our home ever considered that there was a woman and children inside---guess that we will never know....