It’s funny;
when I was a young girl
I used to make mental notes
of what I would take with me
if my house went up in flames.
I packed a “fire bag”
with all of my special belongings.
I rehearsed
how I would grab the family dog
and head for the nearest window,
meeting my parents
at the end of the driveway
by our plastic mailbox.

These plans evolved over time
changing with the folds of my body
different items, assorted exit strategies,
and I only laugh now
because when my childhood fears
came to fruition
I wasn’t even home
to save anything at all.