Fascinated by fire trucks

The fire must have broken out while my son and I were away, having lunch at Grandma and Grandpa Cook's house. We were getting home for nap time a little late, which is OK because visiting grandparents ranks high on my list of special things to do.

I turned at the corner and saw the fire truck and assistant fire chief's SUV parked mid-way down our street, lights flashing. As I backed my car into the intersection to go another way, fears flickered across my mind: Was there a fire at our house? Had one of our elderly neighbors fallen or had a heart attack? I backed up our street from the other end and parked. The call had been to the college student rental house three doors up, a kitchen fire, neighbors told me later.

Firefighters were milling around the truck, talking and putting their gear away. One waved to my son as he stared on his way up our steps. He decided he was going to watch from the porch, while I put our belongings inside. I considered making him come inside from the cold and watch from the window. But it isn't every day that a fire truck shows up in front of your house. I grabbed a blanket instead, cleared his sled off our porch swing and settled in with him.

Soon enough, the firefighters were leaving. They sounded the fire rig's horn as they drove past our house. I encouraged my son to wave. All waved back, making one little boy's day just that much more special.