The Day I Almost Burned Down the House
It was 65 years ago and I haven’t gotten over it.
It was a quiet Sunday afternoon in the 1950s. I was 9 years old. My parents wanted to go across town to visit my aunt and uncle. That meant that I and my two-year-old sister would have to go with them, because in 1957, as far as I knew, it was unheard of for a nine-year-old to be left home alone.