Summertime used to be my favorite season. How I looked forward to the beach and going on vacations.
But now summertime has a whole new meaning. Summertime is fire season.
The last few years some devastating fires took place. My husband packs up and off he goes. Who knows when he will return. It could be days or weeks.
He is out there saving homes and lives, everyone’s hero. Everywhere I look I see signs that say thank you, firefighters, or I love you, firefighters.
Don’t get me wrong I do appreciate everything the firefighters do, however, there are so many others involved that do not receive the same recognition. The police are working hard. The gas company is working long hours to restore and the power and let us not forget the volunteers.
Maybe I am slightly envious of how he is everyone else’s hero. Yet when all hell breaks loose I have to be brave and pack up my children and evacuate all by myself.
Maybe I feel the real hero is the one who gets overlooked. The one who doesn’t get any recognition at all; the firefighter’s wife.
So while he is out there living the dream. I just can’t wait for my nightmare to end.