83) Fire

Fire – Autumn

Fall in Wyoming means preparation. There are things that need to be cleared or tidied up. Everything has to be weatherized. Insulation has to be checked and heat tape applied where needed.

Winter is a long season up there, and it’s best to be prepared.

As the summer was sending the last of its unrelenting heat, the Mr. had become more withdrawn. He was quieter and harder to reach. I always felt like I was waiting for time with him. When we did get time together it was still light and wonderful, but those moments were very few, and there became a distinct feeling that we were no longer allowed to be together.

They had said forever. I had said forever. I meant it. I wanted to love and be loved so badly.

One day the Mr., had gone outside to clear some brush that had accumulated. The way the winds blew there was a particular fence that would collect tumbleweeds and other wind borne debris. The custom in the area is to burn accumulations like that in a burn pit or a barrel. He was using a barrel.

There hadn’t been anything to worry about.

He was an entirely competent man doing a task he’d done many times.

We were in the kitchen, and she was going on and on about how bad he was getting, and how he’s “just like this sometimes.” She was coaching me through his distance, all while she was creating it.

He didn’t need antidepressants. He needed her to let up.

I was prepared to take it all. I was prepared to suffer for years until he was happy and whole again, and I had every intention of waiting it out. I really believed he was worth it.

We heard yelling from outside, and looked out the back door at about a quarter acre up in flames. All it takes is one wind gust. He didn’t have buckets nearby. He hadn’t run the hose over just in case. He was doing something that he’d done for years, and the fire had stayed in the barrel every other time.

Complacency and depression are deadly companions.

We ran hose as fast as we could, we hauled buckets and it felt like the water evaporated before it ever even touched the scorched earth.

There was no Fire Rescue Authority that reaches that place.

Thankfully, one of the neighbors had a water truck, and had seen the blaze. He brought the truck over, and had called another neighbor to do the same.

Before they arrived, the Mr. had gotten into the blade, which was a piece of heavy equipment that he used to smooth out the dirt road that lead to their home.

He was thinking, but he also wasn’t, and instead of working the from edges in, he drove straight out into the fire. I was still working a hose at the edge as I’d been instructed, and didn’t even see him get into the blade.

I remember seeing the tires melt and pop, and watched him handling the intensity of the heat. It was clearly far worse than where I stood, and I was so scared.

I watched the Mrs. in hysterics, not being of much help at all.

(I was so angry with her. He needed her, to use her brain, and DO SOMETHING!!! All I could do was help in the ways that I could. I didn’t have the capacity to even think about her.)

When the tires melted the Mr. had to climb out of the cabin and jump from the blade onto the flaming earth. I turned my stream to his feet as did the water truck, which kept him from melting, but it also made the ground beneath him very muddy and very slippery. The plants that grow in these areas are tough, woody, stabby plants.

He had to catch himself from falling several times, and he bore the lacerations of proof.

He knew immediately how bad of an idea it had been to drive directly out in a fire. He’d put out fires before. It was quite the topic of discussion once the fire was under control and I watched how small it made him feel.

I was just glad he was alive.

The water trucks took over and we took him in to doctor him up. I cleaned wounds and applied bandages, while he avoided eye contact, and she berated him. I wanted so badly to comfort him, and she wouldn’t let me.

How had I gone so quickly from having total freedom to not even being able to have a conversation with my husband?

I was willing to accept that their relationship was established before I got there. I agreed to certain terms that honored that, but what about the terms that were supposed to honor me? Somehow, those were optional, and nobody was choosing that option.

I felt trapped, again. I became resentful, but kept that pretty hidden on the inside. He had asked me early on to be kind to her, and I kept my word.

I had meant every single thing I had said to them.