The words tumbling out of my co-worker's mouth were incomprehensible to me. Start over, I said. Slow down. I can't understand you.

But when she repeated those words - Drewbert's dad in the hospital, house burned down, he's getting picked up - everything came in sharp focus and I realized I hadn't mis-heard the first time. I just hadn't believed what I'd heard.

Drewbert works with me - I was principal in getting him the job. Just 18, he's like a third son. He's a hard worker, unfailingly polite, definitely an asset. He's lived down the street from us since we moved here - his parents are our friends. We've eaten at each other's houses more times than I can count, though perhaps not as much lately.

We walked down there last night, but the house still stands. No different than usual, except no lights were on.

Drewbert's Dad was kept for observation after smoke inhalation - he went to rescue their dogs, who had already the sense to scurry out the doggie door to the back yard.

Smoke damage, water damage, a sense of shock and displacement. I don't know how the fire started, or what it consumed other than the stuff of their lives.

Much of the community has come out to help them - the parents are both long time nurses at the local hospital. The ambulance crews, the fire crews, every one knows them. They will have a lot of support during this time.

But maybe I can help, too, in a small way. Dinner. a place to relax for a bit (though they've got the housing covered). Friends to laugh and cry with.

Merry Christmas. Happy New Year. Count your blessings.