My Memory Log

Fire (2 memories in 1)

Two Memories in one chapter::

Memory 1:

So it was fourth grade class with Mrs. Humble (who missed half the year after getting cancer and stuck us with Mrs. Nikodem who made me pull a stick for pointing out the fraction she drew on the board looked like Pac Man. I might explain this story further another day.)

She drew a mountain on the whiteboard one day (maybe a month or two into the school year) and was explaining how some miners got caught in the mountain and died.

"So, it basically caught on fire-" she was caught off by the fire drill bell. we all started to laugh and walked outside (we were on the third floor, so many stairs to climb. bleh.) 

When we returned she went back to the story.

"As I was saying, they were caught in this little hole and a fire-" she was interrupted once more by the fire bell.

Everyone laughed once more and she let out a tired sigh while we went back outside.

When we returned, she glanced at the board, looked at the ceiling and mumbled something before letting out another sigh. She took in a deep breath and said, "They got caught in a very heated hole that burst into bright flames-" and the fire bell once more came on and we laughed again.

(Looking back idk how I survived those stairs. I used to be so fit. What happened?)

So after we returned she went to go speak again, so I interrupted saying, "Mrs. Humble, why don't you just skip the fire part. I think we've got that down." (I was a smart 9 year old. Almost won the spelling bee, but then I couldn't spell quilt.)

She nodded her head and agreed, and we didn't hear the fire drill bell go off again for another month.

Memory 2:

(So background: My mom and my Auntie Monica used to spend five hours a day on the phone together, no lie. Thankfully they've cut it down to two hours a day.)

So this is when I was five. I was in Kindergarten. I was walking around my house, bored. It was Valentines Day and I had stayed home sick. (Man, the days before devices and always needing WiFi. . .)

I walked into my downstairs kitchen (My grandma lived upstairs and my family lived downstairs until I was in second grade and my grandma moved out) and noticed that my mom was cooking something and saw a tiny little fire under the food. (I'm pretty sure it was stew.)

I walked to my parents room, and saw my mom on the phone with my Auntie Monica. "Mom, is the food supposed to cook on a fire like that?" I asked, tilting my head on confusion. 

"Shh, I'm on the phone," My mom said, waving me off. I shrugged and walked away. 

About thirty minutes later while I was in my grandma's territory I heard my mom shout, "VIOLET!" (I'm thinking of changing my pen name to Sophie because that's my French class name)

I walked down the stairs and grinned. "What, mom?"

"Why didn't you tell me about this?" She dramatically waved her arm, motioning to the stove. 

"I asked you if the stove was supposed to be on fire and you told me to go away because you were on the phone," I told her, grinning. "Ooh, you're in trouble!"

My mom rolled her eyes.