By Lorry Myers
First, the sky lit up, like the sun had fallen to Earth, and then came the explosion that rattled the windows and shook her couch. Nancy knew from the screams coming from outside, that something had happened.
Something terrible had happened.
The temperature was cool that wet October night. Many of Nancy’s extended family had traveled to Mexico to attend her nephew’s funeral. One of the travelers was her handsome, long-haired son, Eli Beasley, who came from Arizona, leaving his very pregnant wife, Kerry, at home. After the memorial service, family members gathered around a bonfire at Nancy’s house before everyone left for home.
It had been a long day.
Nancy slipped inside early, leaving the bonfire and the night to her young adult children and their cousins who had many stories left to tell. She settled on the couch and found comfort listening to the laughter coming from the backyard.
Then, everything changed.
Without thinking, her son had sprayed fuel on the dying bonfire causing the flames to follow the fumes back to Eli, exploding in his face. It took several attempts to put out the fire that consumed Eli and all that witnessed it, will never forget it.
Not ever.
Growing up in Centralia, Eli was a popular boy known for his wide smile and contagious enthusiasm for life. After high school, Eli joined the Marines, married his love, Kerry, and finally settled in Arizona, determined to build a life for his growing family.
Then, the sun fell.
“Is it one of my children?” Nancy remembered screaming that night, even though deep down, she already knew the answer.
Eli was helped into his mother’s house to wait for the ambulance, but not before he covered his damaged face with a singed jacket. Inside, Eli sought relief in a cold shower and watched his charred clothes, his dreams, and pieces of his flesh wash away. “I may not look the same, Mom,” Eli said when he heard Nancy’s wails. “But I am OK.
For the complete column, see this week’s edition of the Centralia Fireside Guard
