I live in the center of the fire district in which I work. I live where two of the major travel routes of our apparatus intersect.
Every time I hear the sirens with the air horns and Q, I am reminded how much I miss my job. When I'm resting in bed, laying on heat trying to relieve the pain and reading as much fire service material as I can, to "keep my head in the game", or anytime in fact, and hear the our trucks, and I know distinctly which one it is, when they are going to or returning from somewhere, I know it is them without having to look out the window, with the feeling that I belong inside and driving those trucks. I love hearing the air horn honk each time a truck passes my home, with the meaning of just saying hello
I'm working hard to recover completly from my injuries. Each day, I grow a little stronger. But I miss the job, and most importantly, the guys who I work with who are friends and teach me all kinds of things, about the job, myself, life and the list goes on. That is the insparation for me to heal, and each time I hear the sirens, I'm reminded to fight through the bad days and come back a stronger and smarter firefighter at the department I have dreamed of working at my whole life.
Many of you have supported me throughout this ordeal, and I thank those who have. It's times like this in which you know when your friends shine out.