Buck up, Little Soldier

I had reservations about using a Gas heater for a number of reasons, but I was repeatedly told that they are completely safe, if used properly. So I wrote off my paranoia, and I let my guard down. Sitting in front of my brand new heater in my extraordinarily cold house quickly became a favorite activity. Needless to say, when my new heater and new giant gas tank ( that was 4 times the size of the previous one and was intended to last an entire month) exploded in front of me on Tuesday morning, I was more than shocked. (Weirdly enough during the moment that I was forced to face my own mortality, I was listening to “When I’m gone” a fitting song about dying by Eminem. That tank exploded and in the background, I heard him repeatedly rap “And when I'm gone, just carry on, don't mourn- Rejoice every time you hear the sound of my voice./Just know that I'm looking down on you smiling/And I didn't feel a thing, So baby don't feel my pain/Just smile back”)

'This would be a cautionary tale, if there was an explanation for the malfunction, but I still don’t have one. The fact that I didn’t get burned is a miracle of some sort but the reason it happened is still a mystery.

David was sleeping and the sound of the explosion woke him up. He ran out of our bedroom, took one look at me and I knew… This situation was very serious. He was wide-eyed; his pupils were nearly dilated. David and I have traveled around the sun 5 times together, and in five years we’ve been through A LOT, but normally I calm him or he calms me but not this time. This isn’t mere hyperbole, the seconds turned to minutes. You really don’t know how you will react to an emergency until it happens.

We didn’t talk about the impending doom, because it was just understood. He nervously asked, “What should I do?” Then I retorted, “Get water,” as I opened the window furthest from the burning gas tank. It was not only blocking the exit door but was also burning right next to the wall. Instantly I realized there were burglar bars on the window. I was sure the painting on the wall was about to catch fire; I was certain that the already burning gas tank was going to explode at any second, and I didn’t have a single thought about my material belongings. Within a second, I decided to open a different window. I struggled with the hard to open, old, stuck window as I nervously glanced at the tank. Moments later, I jumped out the window in Bruce Willis style, and David, who was half naked, ran past the tank while emptying a coffee pot of water on it. The water did nothing to the fueled fire, but we both safely exited the house.

Luckily our landlord’s husband was nearby, because otherwise the house would have caught fire. He was able to move the tank. He burned his hands a little but that seems like a small price to pay. He then dosed the fire for 10 minutes with a nearby hose that neither one of us knew existed.

After the aforementioned event, I rushed to my morning class. Arriving 10 minutes late, I was on the verge of tears and feeling more homesick than I have been in the past 3 months. I taught in an inner city school and learned how to act like bloody fights between rival gang members didn’t faze me. I’ve played poker my whole life and have developed a poker face: I have convinced people that I had 4 aces in my hand when I had nothing, because I learned how to believe my own lie. So right after I was traumatized, I taught with the best poker face I could muster while desperately trying to forget that I just had a near death experience. I needed a hug and for someone to say “it’s all going to be okay” but I had neither, so I just breathed. Life continued/continues on like nothing happened, as it always will. However, I’m left with a lot of information to process.

“As for those things
That act as markers in your life
But in between you can't remember
And these silly things I like to dwell on”