Lessons Of A House Fire

A house fire is something I don’t wish on anyone. It’s something I can honestly say that I thought would never happen to me. But in the summer of 2017, a house fire turned our lives upside down. Now, 5 years later, I’m sharing our major lessons learned, and who knows, maybe even some silver linings.

August 1st of 2017 was a completely normal day. I had just moved in with my boyfriend, now husband Mr. Dink, in June, and things couldn’t have been better. I had signed up for a CSA (community supported agriculture, also fondly known as a farm share) right across the street from our house. I had a new community I was slowly becoming a part of. And our in-ground pool (yes, the pool we’re now filling in to make room for our bus when it comes home with us) was in A+ condition. We had just gotten a new grill, and the dog days of summer were upon us. We were as happy as can be.

August 2nd started off like any other day. I had to travel up to the “big city” of Burlington, where I had moved from, for physical therapy (I was still recovering from a knee surgery I’d had in November). On my way home, I couldn’t stop thinking about how grateful I was. I was lost in thought, about 15 minutes from home, when my phone rang. It was Mr. Dink! He must be calling to talk about what scrumptious thing he had picked up to grill for dinner!

To my horror, instead he told me to stay calm and not to panic (worst opening to a phone call ever, but I don’t fault him. I have no idea what I would have done in the same situation). He told me our house was on fire, someone had called it in, and a volunteer firefighter had recognized him and told him when he was in line at the grocery store (that’s our small town for ya). He was now on his way to the house, and he wanted me to know that the road might be blocked off and to just drive safe and do the best I can getting to the house.

I hung up the phone, in complete shock. Those remaining 15 minutes of my drive felt like a complete eternity. I tried to just focus on the road and driving safe while my mind went wild with thoughts. Is this my fault? Did I leave the oven on? How could this have possibly happened? And the worst thought: OMG the dog.

When I got close to the house, of course they had the road blocked off. I approached the officer directing traffic and, as I rolled the window down, told him it was my house on fire. He said he had just gotten to the scene and was directed not to let anyone through; why don’t I try going back to the main road and approaching the house from the other side.

Seriously!? Mr. Dink would have never let that fly, but I was in too much shock to argue. I did as I was told, went back out to the main road, and drove parallel to our road and around. As I drove in parallel down the main road, I looked to the left and saw what I knew had to be the smoke from our house filling the sky. Total disbelief.

Luckily, on the other side, the officer let me through. As I got close to the house, there were fire trucks everywhere. All the neighbors were out of their houses, and one whom I hadn’t even officially met yet let me park in her driveway.

As I ran toward the house, I saw Mr. Dink sitting on the front lawn, all by himself. He stood as he saw me coming and let me run into his arms, sobbing. The first thing out of my mouth was about the dog, and Mr. Dink just shook his head and let me lose it.

He told me later that he had been there when they pulled our beloved, 16-year-old pup out of the house and tried to resuscitate him. He got to hold him and say goodbye. He was glad he got to lose it on his own so that he could be there for me. Even after all the lessons learned, and the silver linings we have experienced since that day 5 years ago, we’d trade it all in an instant to have our dog back.

I can honestly say that it is one of the strangest feelings to go through the trauma of losing a home and a pet in one fell swoop while at the same time being so grateful to be alive.

The fire was a hugely destructive to our house. Before this, I had only ever known anyone to have a small fire in the attic, or something that caused very little damage. When it came to our house, the shed/garage, where the fire began (3 different fire inspectors ruled that they had no idea how the fire started), was completely gone. There was not a single remnant left of anything in there (our bikes, for example). The kitchen was attached to the garage, and part of that was completely gone. The amazing firefighters were able to stop the actual flames before they spread beyond that, but the rest of the house suffered incredible heat and smoke damage. I have never seen anything like it. Everything was black. And the smell. I still smell that smell out of nowhere sometimes.

All we had to our names were the clothes we were wearing that day and whatever was in our cars. It was so surreal. We literally walked around like zombies for a few days.

I could say so much more about the horror of that day. It was truly one of the worst days of my life. But over time, traumatic experiences have a way of staying with you, teaching you lessons, and shaping who you are.

Lesson #1: The importance of insurance

By far the thing we talk about the most and are most grateful for when it comes to the fire is our home insurance. You know that thing you pay for every month that some of us never use, and we wonder what we’re paying all this money for? Let me tell you, home insurance was our absolute lifesaver. When you’re in complete shock and have nothing to your name but the clothes on your back, home insurance is literally the life raft in a shipwreck.

Mr. Dink had insurance through a local company, and we were able to meet with our representative face to face the very next day. He was able to write us a check right then and there to get us started so that we could go out and buy some new clothes. It’s difficult to express in words the relief that came when we realized, at least monetarily, we would be ok. We would be taken care of financially at a time when we had no idea how to take care of ourselves physically or mentally.

From there, we learned that we had a certain amount of money to use for replacing our things. A separate pot of money from that could also be used to pay for a place to live if we needed. And a separate amount of money again was for us to either rebuild if we chose or to cut our losses and buy a new house.

We even had money we could use to get some of our possessions cleaned. There are cleaning services (basically anywhere you’d go to get dry cleaning done) that clean for smoke damage. A lot of our clothes were in drawers or bins, and so while not completely ruined, smelled horribly of smoke. Sadly, we learned through this process that although smoke damage is actually pretty easy to clean, when combined with heat damage, it’s nearly impossible. Since our house had gotten so hot during the fire, the heat leached the smoke into the material. Of all the clothes, shoes, bedding, etc. we took to get cleaned, we had about a 10% success rate with cleaning. Some of my favorite clothes I tried to wash again and again on my own afterward and eventually gave up, never wanting to smell that smell again.

You may be wondering how I fared personally and financially in this process, as I had just moved in with Mr. Dink. Luckily, we had decided that I would just update my renter’s insurance to my new location when I first moved in, so that I could wait and cancel once we got around to getting me included on the home insurance. So, although I wasn’t covered under the house policy when it came to my personal belongings, my renters policy paid out in cash the entire amount, which was more than enough to cover my personal belongings.

The money that insurance provided for our material possessions and for the house seem obvious now, but the one that most surprised me was the money we received for “loss of use”, which we could use toward finding another place to live. This was a big one for us, as we decided to rebuild. And rebuilds take time. Although we were fortunate to have Mr. Dink’s mom nearby, who let us stay at her house immediately after the fire, we didn’t want to overstay our welcome, and we also value our independence. It was almost 2 years after the fire before we were back in our house, and we were able to pay for another place to live that whole time thanks to insurance. 

Yes, in case you missed it, we decided to rebuild. After having time to recover and consider our options, we easily decided that we loved our house, our location, and our community. We weren’t ready to leave the area, and although we could have bought another house in the same community, we loved our property, our location, and our neighbors. Plus, Mr. Dink is a carpenter with a specific interest in and fascination with historic preservation. Our house was built in 1850, and he had always dreamed of fixing it up anyway. In hindsight, he can now joke that thanks to the fire, his 10-year plan turned into a 2-year plan. I think he would say that getting to rebuild his own home with his own hands after the fire was the greatest gift that came out of that horrible day.

Lesson #2: The importance of community

I’ve got to say, a huge reason I was so excited to move in with Mr. Dink (rather than him moving in with me) is because I was ecstatic about the prospect of community. I had moved from the “big city,” where I had never felt much community beyond my workaholic friends at the University where I worked and my volleyball friends I would drink with after playing. The idea of moving to a small town, much like the size of the town where I grew up, thrilled me.

There’s something to be said for a community where neighbors are actually friendly and are people you can count on. Our small town goes Christmas caroling together and has community-wide picnics in the summer. You can’t go to the grocery store without seeing someone you know. And because Mr. Dink is in the trades, with most of his clients being members of our community, he really seems to know everyone.

As I was only a month in to this newfound community experience, I was completely overwhelmed by the support we received from our neighbors and community after our house fire. It was super uncomfortable for me at first, especially since we were perfectly capable of supporting ourselves thanks to our jobs and the insurance, but the whole experience has completely changed my attitude toward accepting help. People would not offer if they didn’t want to and couldn’t help, and I found that it actually hurts relationships and comes across as disrespectful to turn down that kind of help. What worked for me was to have open and honest conversations with those who were trying to help, so that we could come up with an outcome that worked for everyone. This of course wasn’t needed for small gestures like bringing by flowers or food, but it was needed for some of the largest gestures we experienced.

As an example, the neighbors that run our CSA wanted to put on a benefit for us, to raise money to help with our situation. After casually waving them off a few times, it became clear to me that they were not going to drop the topic. So, we had an open and honest conversation, telling them how kind and generous their offer was but that we were completely uncomfortable with that large of an event given the support we were receiving from insurance. We couldn’t in good conscience take people’s money like that. However, she insisted that they wanted to do something. So, we compromised. She gave us 3 options (of course, the fundraiser was still on the list, she wasn’t going down that easy), and we were able to choose the one we felt most comfortable with: a free, small share of the autumn CSA. Although I was still quite uncomfortable even with that, she was thrilled and happy, and that was the most important thing for supporting our neighborly relationships.

As a silver lining, I can honestly say that the fire led to us become even more plugged in to our community than we were before. Our bonds with our neighbors became even stronger. I don’t know about you, but I think the power and love of community is completely underrated in society today. It ended up being a big life saver for us during the really dark days of the pandemic as well. Thankfully, we were already set up with tight community bonds before the pandemic, and it really helped keep our spirits up knowing we were not alone and we had our neighbors to talk to and be in community with.

Lesson #3: The importance/unimportance of material things

This is a tricky lesson. On the one hand, our house fire taught me not to place so much value on material things. And when I say value here, I don’t really mean money. I mean importance. Because of the fire, material things are much less important to me than they used to be. As a relatively frugal person, I already somewhat had this mindset, but I still had accumulated a lot of things over the years, things that I thought were important. But most of the things we lost? I don’t ever miss.

On the other hand, the house fire taught me to place even more value on the things that are already important to me.

For example, I was devastated that I had JUST been gifted a quilt my grandmother had made a few months before the fire. Luckily, before my dad gifted it to me, had had it dry-cleaned and preserved in a sort of plastic wrap. This ended up being the quilt’s sacred protector. Besides one small smoke stain, the smell miraculously came out of the quilt because it had been preserved.

Now, I value the hell out of that quilt. But here’s the thing. Because I value it doesn’t necessarily mean I keep it wrapped up and preserved to never be able to use it. I want to use it. I want to feel its softness against my skin. Because the fire also taught me that life is short. And what good is it to have things if they’re not to be used?

Actually using the quilt, and cherishing it, is how I place more value on it now. Before, it was just my grandmother’s quilt stuffed in a closest. Now, it’s a constant reminder of the beauty that remains even in darkness.

Even things that didn’t fare so well in the fire still have even more meaning now than they did before. Many of my priceless family heirlooms, like birds my grandfather carved and letters he wrote, as well as paintings my aunt made, both of whom are no longer with us, were so badly damaged I would never want to put them out on display. They are blanketed in black, and they smell horrible. But I keep a “burn box” full of these possessions that I know I can at least access if I want or need to. They are still on my heart, and they’re still here, even if I don’t touch or see them every day.

Very interesting side note on the topic of material things: If you have a laptop computer, make sure it has a protective cover/case and that you close it when not in use. I was freelancing at the time of the fire, and I was terrified that I had lost everything related to my business. My laptop was closed. Although the case was completely black and I didn’t have much hope, after taking it to the computer store, they were able to completely repair my computer! I could not believe it. Mr. Dink, on the other hand, had a protective case but left his laptop open, and the computer and screen warped and melted on the spot. To this day, I may or may not go around closing his laptop every time I find it open…

Lesson #4: The importance of minimalism

Yes, as I said before, I may have already been started on this path, but the house fire led me even further down the path of minimalism.

I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. It is a surreal feeling to realize that all you have are the clothes on your back and whatever’s in your car. In a weird way, the fire provided a sort of clean slate when it came to material things.

When we started to replace our belongings, we took the time to really think about what we needed. We were very privileged in that we had furnished places to stay, so that we didn’t need to go out and replace everything in a pinch. We could really take our time and be mindful about what we purchased. We could spend intentionally, which is a huge factor in this minimalist silver lining.

But, for example, we were able to get the one set of pots and pans we really liked. Shoes were a really big one too. I had accumulated so many pairs of shoes over the years, and I knew I didn’t want to go back to that place. It was summertime, and so I bought one pair of my favorite Teva flip flops and a new pair of Birkenstocks. Since I had been at physical therapy the day of the fire, my sneakers survived because I was wearing them, and my hiking boots had been in my car. By the time winter came around, I knew exactly what winter boots I would buy.

However, I also learned that minimalism can be taken to an extreme. I now believe that a nice healthy dose of minimalism can do wonders, but we don’t need to be so super rigid. As I said, because I had been wearing my sneakers the day of the fire, I told myself I didn’t need to buy a new pair. They were perfectly fine. However, I had used them to walk around the house collecting all of our stuff we wanted to try to salvage after the fire, and so the bottoms were disgusting: sticky and black, with a faint smoky smell. I put up with it for awhile, told myself it wasn’t that bad, but one day in the gym, I noticed a black scuff they left behind; the smell hit me particularly hard, and I burst into tears on the elliptical. I went out and bought new sneakers the next day.

Part of this newfound minimalism was also taking the mindset of quality over quantity. I decided that since I had the money, and since I wouldn’t be buying in excess, I could spend a little extra to buy nice-quality things. This was different for me, as I’d always prided myself on buying the cheapest thing or finding the best deal. Since the fire happened in early August, I knew I’d need a new winter hat, and I was able to take my time picking out the one I liked the best with the highest possible quality (Vermont winters are COLD and a warm winter hat is key to happiness outdoors). I was ok spending a little more because I decided I only wanted one winter hat. Who needs so many hats anyway (Mr. Dink will tell you otherwise with his baseball hat collection…what can I say, minimalism isn’t for everyone…). I can say with pride that 5 years later, it’s still my favorite hat, and I haven’t purchased a single other winter hat since.

So, there you have it. Five years after one of the worst days of my life, and I can finally share some lessons learned: the importance of insurance, community, valuing our material possessions, and minimalism. Although it was a horrible experience I would never want to go through again or wish on anyone, our house fire has shaped who I am and how I live my life now.

Have you ever been through something similar? How has it shaped you? Or do you have any questions about my experience? I’d love to hear from you!