Moving On

 Well it's been two weeks since I posted last. Maybe part of the reason has to do with the fact that our apartment almost burnt down and someone was rushed to the burn unit in Salt Lake. Maybe. To be honest, I have thought about blogging many times, but each time I do, I feel like I would have to mention what happened, and that would force me to relive it. Not to mention the fact that I've had to tell the story a million different times already. The Fire sat like a huge boulder preventing any forward movement. But yet, I didn't want to climb it. So it's finally time to pass it and move on. I could sit here and write about how terrifying it was to see flames engulf half our kitchen. How terrifying it was to see the girl next to me fall to the floor, on fire. How horrifying it was to hear her screams -- they didn't stop. How loud the smoke alarm was. The panic in Lauren's voice as she called 911. The sirens. The raw fear. The adrenaline. The nausea. The guilt. I could write about all of that, but I choose to move on. I think all of us have chosen to move on. Even Alissa is in Colorado, moving on. Her hands might be bandaged and her legs might be scarred, but she's pushing forward. My burns are healing and drying up. Our apartment is repainted. The smoke smell is gone. Yes, it's time to move on.