Some memories

 Some memories just won't go away. The one I am dealing with isn't all that bad but it happened when I was 10 or 11 and staying with my Dad's Mom and Dad for the summer. In the neighborhood all the houses had decent front porches where you could sit in the evening and have coffee, tea or Coca Cola and everyone knew everyone and their business. The house that was two doors down from the main street there was a young woman who lived with her parents and she had just had a baby, she was mentally ill. I remember Granny Mac and Grandpa Mac running out of the house around 5 p.m. as did everyone in the neighborhood. The house was on fire and the fire truck was there dong their best. There were screams and we all huddled together a short distance from the house. The smoke smelled different and it wasn't until a week later that Granny Mac told me the screaming was the mother of the baby that she couldn't get out of the house and the smell was human flesh. The mother had to be taken to the hospital with bad burns over her body, unfortunately, she never came home because she just couldn't cope with the loss of her baby. I can still remember the smell of burning flesh.