When my son was born I lived in a house that was 110 years old. It was a beautiful home that had been restored to it’s original beauty, it had solid walls, high ceilings, huge comfortable rooms and a swinging door between the dining room and living room - I loved that house!

There were times that I would catch something in my peripheral vision - a flash, a slight movement etc, I really didn’t dwell on it as I had other things that required my attention being the single mother of a young child.

One evening after a very long day at work, my son was about 6 months old at the time, I had him upstairs with me in my bedroom watching a movie. The swinging door in the kitchen “swooshed” (we usually kept it propped open), I didn’t think much about it thinking it was my roommate closing it for some reason - then it happened again…and again….and again - it kept happening. I went to the top of the stairs and called my roommates name a couple of times with no answer - the door kept “swooshing”. I called my roommate on her cell, she was a block over at a friends house and they came over immediately. They had 91 already dialed into the phone, ready to dial the next 1 because we thought someone was in that big house that shouldn’t be.

There was no one there but there was a gas leak! The whole downstairs reeked of gas.

I don’t know what or who “swooshed” that door but I do know that if my son and I had gone to sleep without knowing there was a gas leak, it’s quite possible I wouldn’t be writing this on Quora today.