I was sixteen years old when my father left the family. Being the oldest of nine brothers and sisters, I felt it was my job to be the family protector. We were still a loving family in spite of Dad's leaving. Mom had moved us into a small old, run-down two story house. The house was cramped, but I never minded, because there was a large screened porch in the back of the house and during the summer months I would love sleeping there.The sound of the crickets would soothe and lull me into a peaceful sleep.

It was now September and the nights were getting cold but I was reluctant to move back into bedroom I shared with my two brothers. Mom brought out extra blankets and reminded me that this would be my last night on the porch. Like it or not; tomorrow I would be sleeping back in the house. On this night mom decided to light a coal fire in the large potbelly stove that was centered in the living room. Again she urged me to rejoin my two brothers where I would be warm. "Not tonight" I pleaded tomorrow would be soon enough.

I guess it was even too cold for the crickets, for tonight there were no friendly cricket sounds, but I soon fell into a deep sleep without their help.

I awoke during the night with an uncomfortable nervous feeling, a million crickets seemed to be singing all at once. I immediately saw this red glow reflecting from out of the living room window onto the porch. Paralyzed at first, I jumped from the bed and burst into the living room. There in the living room where the stovepipe entered into the wall, the chimney was in flames. Quickly I roused everyone and together we extinguished the fire with pots and buckets of water.

While we were all huddled out on the porch, waiting for the fire chief to declare the house safe, Mom reminded me again that the weather was getting too cold to sleep out doors. "Even the crickets are gone" she said."been gone for almost two weeks now". Did our guardian angels send them back for that Life Saving Encore?