All was lost to a devastating fire mid-morning on Valentine’s Day. The fire tore through the home in such a blaze it’s hard to comprehend. Anyone who knows my mother Carla Riley knows that she is an extraordinary person beyond measure and she, along with all others, does not deserve this misfortune.

(for those interested in the short and sweet, you may scroll to the end).

The house was home to many, and the door was always open. I can remember moving in just after I turned 8 (I'm 27 now) with my new baby sister. Just like in a movie the house echoed as I ran through every room to find the one that was just right. And with every box we carried in, that echo would soften more and more. The shuffling of boxes soon turned into the tiny steps of my baby sister learning to walk. Soon she would grow and two baby boys would follow in her steps.

We grew there, all of us. We grew a family. We grew a home.

And now its gone.

Imagine, all of you, how interlaced you are with the walls that surround.

Think about it, every creak in the floors you know to avoid at night. And how you stumble to the bathroom at 3am without even having to look. Think about how many times you've all busted your behinds because you missed a step and then tragically, yet comically, were greeted by each subsequent one on the way down hahaha. Or maybe running at them full speed and then suddenly forgetting how to climb them. My mother, never with the best luck, has encountered her (and seemingly many other's) share of Murphy's Law. And as a result, would count each step as she went up and down just to be sure one wouldn't sneak up on her. Just like everyone else we celebrated birthdays, holidays (and for some, their last), anniversaries, graduations, new life, and lives lost in our home. Memories decorated the walls (along with some questionable paint choices ahah) and some holes everybody swore they didnt make.

Think about all of that, the floors, the collection of walls and everything within. Now turn it to dust.

Everything that surrounds you in your homes, even the things you dont like or wish to change, or are embarrassed by. Believe me when I say you want it, you love it, and you need it. Even if you think you dont.

When you go home, or if you're there now, take a look around you. Take a look at your things, all of your cherished belongings, memories and pictures. Breathe in and smell your air fresheners. Taste your tap water. Open your curtains, and watch the light lay on your floor and dance across your walls. Find the beauty in your every day because there are so many things we pass by without even realizing they are there.

(**Skimmers start here**)

Every belonging, every shoe, every book, every toy, blanket, keepsake, written letter, and clothes they have ever had. From the meticulously curated museum-worthy collection of fishing supplies, hooks and poles to the hand-crocheted blankets my mother made each of us, it's all gone.

My family has lost everything making this a life-altering experience, and the worst part is it's not over.

I know things like this happen all the time and the world stops spinning for nobody, even when we wish it would.

You might think "they have people", or "the insurance will fix it". Maybe "at least they have each other".

The reality of it is, insurance isnt fixing anything, theres no money, none to build and none to buy. We are at the mercy of our community and those willing to reach out in this dark time. We are at the mercy of you reading this.

This page was set up as an avenue through which those who are willing and able to donate can do so.

Every donation will be deposited into an account dedicated to the purchasing of supplies to rebuild our home. Every donation will be welcomed, appreciated and received with tears of gratitude. If anyone is interested in donating but is unable to use this platform please message me. If anyone is interested in donating via Apple Pay, Cash-App or in person please message me as well.

Lady Gaga was certainly right when she sang "Til It Happens To You".

Though our flesh remains, we still lost a member of the family. The one nobody speaks of, the one who kept us warm, dry, and together - Our home.