It had been a great Saturday: a heart-pumping kickboxing session, incredible progress on both my novella and next novel, topped off with a laughter-filled night out for drinks with one of my closest friends (and cousin). I went to bed feeling satisfied, looking forward to a full day of writing on Sunday.

But, something disturbed my sleep and I woke up in the middle of the night. Someone was yelling. Strange, my neighborhood is usually quiet. In my old apartment, I’d be subjected to the occasional drunken rant outside the window, but not here in my condominium. The yells continued. As I struggled to make out the words, I heard sirens. Lots of them.

And there was another sound in the background. A familiar rhythm of noises, but not something I would regularly hear. What was it now? In my foggy brain, the sound finally matched to the appropriate image – the crackling sounds of a fire burning.

Suddenly, I could make the words out, “Get out, everybody, get out of the building.” I jumped up, put on my glasses and opened my blinds.

I live on the main floor of my condominium apartment. My place is usually sheltered from noise, because it backs onto the yard of another condominium building. A condominium building that was now on fire. The bright orange flames hurt my eyes in the darkness, and I blinked rapidly. Was I really seeing what I was seeing? The sirens grew louder.

From my viewpoint, one apartment on the top floor was on fire, the flames completely engulfing its balcony. A trail of orange crept along the ceiling of the adjacent suite, also starting to be enveloped by its brightness.

It would be cold outside, I thought. Put on some pants and a sweater.

“Get out, get out, everyone out of the building!”

Had the flames jumped onto our building? Had the fire started in our building and jumped to their building? It hit me that this was real. Not a frozen pipe that had burst or a prank from some kids, like on other nights when we’ve been awoken from our beds. It was real … for where else came that eerie orange light that allowed me to discern shape from shadow? Real, as my heart began to pound. Very real.

What do I not want to burn down? I asked myself. What would I be devastated if I lost?

Think quickly, I thought. I don’t want to get caught in a burning building.

My writing. It was the only thing that came to mind. I couldn’t find my backup USB stick that had all of my writing. So, I pulled all the cords out of my laptop and dropped it into a bag. Wallet. Phone. That’s it. I decided to take the extra five seconds to lock my door. Or maybe it was longer, for my hands were shaking.

By the time I got outside, the flames had seemed to spread across the top floor of the building next door. The firetrucks had arrived, they hadn’t even started to spray water. We huddled in the parking lot, watching how quickly the fire spread. We held our breath as we anxiously followed the path of smoke and ash. Please, we thought. Please let it not spread to our building.

And the people. Were the people out of the other building? We weren’t sure. They were all seniors. We hoped they were safe. But, we also hoped that our residence would stay safe too. The smoke was black and it seemed to billow with intent and anger. Once in a while, parts of the building would collapse and you’d hear the wood groan and an ensuing gasp from everyone who had gathered. Look at all my neighbors, I thought. I didn’t know we had this many people in the neighborhood.

Two hours we watched it, before they let us back in … our feet were cold and we smelled like smoke. But, it was safe. And, apparently everyone was safe in the other building too.

When I shuffled back into my condo at around 5:30am, my place was smoky and the lights on my smoke alarms blinked red and green. And in the early morning light, while I ate my cereal watched the firefighters climb in and out of my backyard into the charred yard of my neighbors, I was grateful. Grateful for whomever invented the fire hydrant, grateful for taxes that pay these firefighters, grateful for the endless water supply that we accessed so quickly to put out the fire, grateful for all of it.

I was tired, to be sure. But not too tired to be filled – overflowing – with gratitude. For all of it.