The First 24 Hours

Before I get into the details in future posts, it’s helpful to know the story of what happened.  I live in the north shore suburbs of Chicago with my family.  We bought our home and moved in late summer of 2020 during the Covid-19 pandemic.  We’d lived in a high rise condo for about a decade downtown and when it got a lot tighter while we were all home all the time during the pandemic, we upgraded from about 1100 sq ft to 4500 sq ft.  The home met 90-95% of our wishes, was relatively up to date at just 15 years old and pretty immediately felt like home.  In addition to buying quite a bit of furniture, we also took many pieces that had been in our families, including several antiques.  The house served our work-from-home needs with two offices as well as our need of daycare/preschool for our daughter, her friend and a nanny.

The Call:

Over Memorial Day weekend of 2023, we were visiting friends and family at a relative’s Indiana lake house about four hours away from home.  I had been on a business trip on the East coast the prior week and flew directly to Indiana and met my family there. That Saturday evening we had cooked out, played all day and were settling into a movie while others played poker.  About 10pm ET, I received a phone call from my neighbor across the street, which was uncommon for her to contact me so late, so I was immediately a bit worried when I saw her name flashing on my phone screen.  I remember sitting in that chair and seeing her name on my phone like it was yesterday - and that moment comes to mind far more often than I wish it did.  She immediately said “Rachel, your house is on fire”!  A bit stunned my first question was “a little on fire or a lot on fire”?  That seems like a stupid response in hindsight but the answer was “a lot on fire”.  She wasn’t actually home - another neighbor who was at our house didn’t have my cell number so called the neighbor that called me - so I called the neighbor onsite.  She explained five different village fire departments were on the scene fighting the fire and handed the phone to the firefighter in charge of the scene.  They were unsure if anyone was in the house as they hadn’t found anyone and I assured him no one was home.  He then in a panic asked about pets in the house.  Luckily our two dogs were in Indiana with us.  He went back to the scene and I continued to FaceTime with my neighbor so I could see the situation.  I could see smoke coming out every window and vent soffit, flames in the back, and firefighters using chainsaws in multiple spots of the roof to cut open giant holes to further vent the smoke.  I was in tears watching my house burn over the phone, not knowing the full state of the interior and of course, imagining the worst.  

Friends and family were trying to console my husband and me saying things like “maybe it isn’t that bad”, “maybe it’s just part of the house that burned”, “at least no one was home” and “it’s just stuff that you can replace”.  They were trying their best, but I snapped at someone at one point to just stop. It wasn't that they were wrong or that I didn't appreciate the consolation. But, the weight of the possibility that I just lost every worldly possession that I had spent my life up to this point collecting and the potential financial impact was overwhelming and I wasn't emotionally ready to accept the care people were trying to provide.  We eventually got back on the phone with the firefighter in charge and I asked him what we should do being so far away.  I initially told him that we would be on our way shortly and arrive around 1:30am local time.  I then asked if we could stay in the house that night - another question that sounds silly in hindsight.  He replied that "oh no ma'am - you cannot stay in the home".  He advised that they may still be fighting the fire at that time and thought it might be better if we met him at 9am back at the house.  

Seeing The House:

We went to sleep after that - but didn't really sleep We woke up very early to drive the four hours home to the north side of Chicago.  It was a very quiet car ride - my husband and I talked about looking up our insurance policy and a couple other things, but it was relatively quiet for the entire car ride.

When we arrived, the board up company that the fire department called was there and opened the house for us to go in.  The first thing I saw was black everywhere.  My beautiful hardwood floors, white walls, moldings, everything was just covered in black soot.  I immediately saw that the wood moldings, walls, and much of the furniture in the entry way was charred and crackled like the logs that have been on a fire burning for hours.  

I also quickly noticed that the plastic coverings on outlets were all melted and looked like dripping plastic.  And the smell - a smell that is singed in my memory for eternity, was so intense - the smell of fire as you'd expect but mixed with the scent of so many items and materials never intended to burn.  It's a different smell than your average backyard firepit.  Step by step as I walked down the entry hallway, I could see cherished items from our travels, my daughters winter wear from the closet and glass light fixtures broken everywhere from the heat.  A plastic water glass was on our kitchen island - about 20-25 feet from the heart of the fire was melted down to an inch tall above the granite.  The houseplant on the island was nothing but brown twigs.  The thick layer of black soot had mixed with the immense amount of water firefighters used on the fire and created a black paste that covered the floors, furniture, walls, etc. 

We then walked to the top floor to see the bedrooms and the sight of my master bedroom really got me.  I couldn't believe this was a space I had taken so much care in designing and had sought solace in - now totally decimated.  

Seeing remnants of our clothes, my daughter's toys, the items that were hurriedly left on tabletops was all pretty surreal.  Shock is the only way to describe the emotion we felt - just utter disbelief at what we saw.  My first inclination was to start grabbing things that were important to me that were even mildly recognizable, but the fire department advised against it since insurance would need to inventory all of the items in the home - and us removing them would endanger the likelihood that they would be included in our contents and belongings inventory.  These folks were experts in this, not me, so I listened to them.  In hindsight, I might have done this part differently, which I'll speak more to another time.

The fire department brought bags to us donated by the Red Cross of toiletries and a few essentials to help us for a couple days while we worked on plans for what was next. We wrapped up with the fire department, who took our statements and asked us a few questions so they could complete the fire report.  The fire chief ensured that I filed a claim with my insurance while I was standing in his presence - which I'm grateful for - as my mind was in 10,000 places all at once.  After the conversation wrapped - we realized there was nothing really that could be done that day and we had to go find a place in which we could exist while we figured things out.