New Dawn

Something grabbed my shoulders. I rocked up and down with the momentum of the springs in my mattress. I opened my eyes and saw mama. Her face was surrounded by black smoke and an orange glow. She said we had to leave. There was no time to pack. No time for goodbyes.

Mama pulled me out of bed. She did this with tremendous strength. She hid it from most. She grew up on a farm, coming to the city for schooling. She met a man, had me, watched the man fade away, and was stuck with me in this big city where she had only a cousin or two to look after her. Now, we were roasting alive in our apartment, fire licking the walls of the living room. We had to get out.

We never discussed our escape route. I just followed mama. She held me by the hand and towed me into the living room. This is where the most smoke was. We crawled on the ground once we crossed the threshold. The sliding glass door on the balcony was already shattered. Mama laid on top of the broken glass. Slivers and shards dug into her skin. She told me to crawl over her. She laid her arms across the threshold of the balcony. I crawled as fast, as gently, as weightlessly as my body could. The cold concrete of the balcony was a relief. I turned back to help mama. There was not a tear in her eye. Tiny rivers of blood streamed down her arms. 

We shouted at the ladder crew that was working another floor in our building. One of the firefighters pointed at us, shouted at us, acknowledging that we could be saved, too. But the ladder carried an unconscious woman. The operators moved her slowly on a rigid stretcher. They gently slid her down the ladder back to earth. 

One of the firefighters on the ground said we had to jump. Mama shook her head. The firefighter insisted there wasn’t time. A water truck pulled up in front of our house. The crew jumped out of the truck. They unrolled the hoses. They coupled the links. The pressure in the hose grew. The firefighter who told us to jump told us to get down. Mama and I crouched on the balcony. I saw all the blood that was running down her legs. There were still pieces of glass inside of her. 

I looked up towards the sky. It couldn’t tell what time it was. It dawned on me this could be a dream. This whole past month could be a dream. The flames from our living room were growing. I could feel the heat through my clothes. I wondered when I would catch fire. If I could jump then. If the firefighters could save me then. And then, and only then, did a violent stream of water shoot across the sky. Water met flame at the threshold. Steam billowed out. Mama shielded my body with her back. She didn’t make a sound. Not since she said there was no time for goodbyes.