Kids get all ecstatic or ruffled up just when they hear sirens and see the red and blue flashing lights of the fire trucks pass by.  I remember always thinking, “Where they are going?” I never became alarmed about if they were going towards my house or a friend’s house?  I never thought my house would be where the fire trucks are going.  Nobody ever does.
I woke up to my mother singing loudly to me, as any normal day. Little did I know that day would change my life.  I soon jumped out of my big queen-sized bed that held my white with blue trimming baby blanket I’ve had since I was born, along with my soft fuzzy blanket.  I didn’t bother getting dressed as I skipped down my twenty-eight stairs gleefully to the first floor of my house.  It also seemed that I had fallen into a world of happiness.  As I continued skipping into the big kitchen where everything was just up to my chest, I saw my mother standing at the stove making pancakes.  As I stopped and stared at the food hungrily, she told me “Brooklyn, please go sit at the table as I finish up the pancakes.” 
“Ok, Mama,” I said as I skipped some more to my seat that I still had to climb into.  As I keenly waited for the food at our eight-person old brownish table, my fraternal twin siblings, Spencer and Chloe, walked in doing the same as I did just a few minutes ago.
Later that day, when the twins and I were playing with Legos since my older brother wasn’t there, my mom asked us if we wanted to make cookies. Before she even finished her sentence, we all excitedly screamed, “Yes!”  We ran as fast as our little skinny legs could carry us into kitchen.  In about two hours or so, we baked all three-dozen cookies. They were all cooling on our cookie racks as we took out the last batch, and my mom turned off the oven.  Before we all could leave, we bundled up because it was bitterly cold. 
We hopped in the car to drive to the store to pick up sprinkles for the cookies.  As we approached the cash register, my mom received a phone call.  She listened for a second or two, hung up, stunned.  She told the cashier lady something while crying. She rushed us three out, leaving us confused and worried.  Soon we were buckled in our brown van. 
As we drove past GM a large dark, almost black smoke clouds hovered right where my house should be. It loomed, mocking us.  Before we could turn onto the street we needed to go on, a fire truck zoomed by. We sped to our house just as fast as the fire truck.  We continued driving, and my mom finally told us that our house has caught fire.  My other two siblings started to cry, I sat there and laid my head on the cold glass of the window.  When we arrived at the house not long after that fire truck, we ran out crying to my father who was also crying. I forgot all about our house in flames even though I could still feel the heat from deadly red and orange flickering flames.  The top of our home was already gone, and we could barely see the first floor anymore. As it burnt even more, the fire looked more hostile with the minutes passing by.
After about an hour of just watching our house burn to the ground, my long distance family offered to take us to their house till it was extinguished because we were just sitting in the car with our German shepherd and Australian shepherd mutt mix, Daisy, drowning in a ocean of uncertainty.  I watched my mother walking toward us, and I wrap my tiny shaking fingers around Daisy’s soft fur in fear.  She opened the sliding door. As I looked at her, the cold December air hit my face like a lumberjack cutting wood. She told us over the loud sirens, “You are going to your cousin’s, so you can get warmed up and eat.”  We moved to their car.  I held tightly onto Daisy horrified and even more frigid.  We pulled around the fire trucks, our neighbors and family.  I watched in wonder but with an aching heart as we drove farther and farther way from the slowly burning house.  Silent tears rushed down my face.