When I was thirteen I began to visit the fire station at the edge of town it was an old brick building with red doors that opened like a heartbeat whenever the siren called I would stand on the sidewalk pretending I was waiting for someone but really I was watching the trucks roll out bright and loud like beasts of metal and light I could smell the fuel and the smoke even when there was no fire and somehow it made me feel safe not afraid the way it should have

Sometimes one of the older firefighters would wave at me they probably thought I was just another curious kid but I felt like I belonged there I used to count the seconds between the alarm and the engine starting and then try to beat the time running across the street with an imaginary hose in my hands in my head I was already one of them I told myself that one day they would know my name too

At home my mother would shake her head she said LinLin it’s dangerous it’s not for girls I would nod and say I understand but inside I didn’t believe her I didn’t want to understand danger I wanted to meet it I wanted to stand in the heat and feel the same pulse that man had the night he carried me out when I closed my eyes I could still see his gloves the scratches on his helmet the glint of melted paint I dreamed about those things the way some girls dreamed about stars or dresses

School was another fire I had to survive kids called me strange because I talked about trucks and rescue drills instead of movies they said girls didn’t become firefighters I said maybe not yet the teachers smiled politely when I said I wanted to apply to the academy one day they told me it would be hard but they didn’t tell me to stop and that was enough for me I started running every morning before class timing myself around the track pretending I was running toward a burning building instead of away from one

The nights were quieter those were the times I thought about fear the kind that hides deep and waits I wondered if the man who saved me ever got scared I imagined him lying awake listening for the next alarm maybe he didn’t sleep much maybe courage was just another kind of exhaustion I wanted to know what it felt like to stand in front of fire and not flinch

My mother worked long hours in a diner after the fire we never had much money sometimes when she came home she smelled like oil and smoke from the grill and I used to close my eyes and imagine it was the same smoke that surrounded me years ago she didn’t know that smell was comfort to me she thought it was a reminder of what we lost I think she wanted to move on but I couldn’t my whole idea of the future was built on that night it was as if the flames had written something on my skin invisible but permanent

I started collecting newspaper stories about firefighters cutting them out and taping them to my wall some of them were tragic some were triumphant all of them were human I would stare at the photographs and study their posture the way they stood after a rescue tired but upright proud but quiet there was something sacred about that stance I wanted to earn it

Sometimes I walked past the charred lot where my old house once stood grass had grown through the ashes it looked peaceful but I could still feel the heat under my feet like memory refusing to fade I would stand there and whisper to the ground that I was coming back not to live there but to honor it in my own way

By the time I turned sixteen the dream was no longer just a thought it was a plan I started saving money for the exam application I learned about CPR watched online training videos read manuals I found in the library I didn’t have mentors or guidance I just had obsession the kind that doesn’t go away even when people laugh at it every time I ran until my lungs burned I told myself this is what it feels like to breathe fire and survive it

I didn’t know what kind of person I would become I just knew that I had to try because every time I saw a red truck pass by with sirens screaming I felt the world narrow into a single point like the edge of a match before it catches flame and I could see my reflection in that light small but certain burning quietly toward my firefighter dream