Sunday night was a perfectly normal evening. We had dinner, watched an episode of Leverage,
noted the howling wind, and headed to bed. At 4:45 am, I got a call
from my dad, that he was possibly being evacuated, and then a barrage of
emergency notifications came in from the university where I teach. The
funny thing was that both my dad's retirement home and the university
are in the next city down, and were not in danger at the time. Still, I
got on Facebook and the news, and was horrified to see the northern part
of MY town blazing in a fire that went from 200 acres in another county
to 1,000 acres in mine in just one night. Hospitals being evacuated, an
entire trailer park razed to the ground, hundreds of homeless in only
hours. And as the day progressed, the evacuation lines kept moving
outward. At seven, I woke the kids up and told them they had to pack
only what they needed.
Our
part of town was never touched. In a fire that so far destroyed over
2,800 homes in city limits alone, we remain safe, with power, and
honestly, if we stay in our neighborhood, we'd never guess what was
going on beside all the smoke and ash. My dad did end up being evacuated
for a day, during which we couldn't find him because the home didn't
contact any families, but is now safely back at home. All the schools in
the county are closed. The Whole Foods where I worked was closed for a
couple of days with no power. Thousands of people now have no homes,
thousands more have no electricity or gas. And the fires continue to
spread -- there are five or six of them now, started
through flying
embers, downed power lines, exploding propane tanks and gas lines. Every
night is restless, waiting for the gusting winds to shift direction.
We've kept packed up and ready to go. Most of what we want is already
loaded in the car, with only our clothing bags waiting by the front
door. The cat hasn't set foot outside since Sunday evening so that we
don't lose track of him.
It
is strange how much priorities shift when something like this happens.
I've been talking for years about wanting to declutter, to simplify, and
now I can say I know exactly what items really count when it comes down
to a choice. And believe me when I say, it isn't much.
We are so lucky. We haven't lost our house in this. But The Girl has had stomach aches all week. We all feel sick from smoke inhalation and a lack of sleep. We've lost a sense of safety we had here, and it will be a while before that comes back.
The main fire was at 10% containment this morning. I am not unpacking until we hit 60%. And the other fires were at 10, 3, 0.... We have firefighters coming in from as far off as Australia, trying to conquer this.
In the past few days, I have also seen an outpouring of love and compassion that amazes me. Our community is being made stronger through loss. Strangers are offering a place to sleep, a shower to use, clothing to wear, meals to eat. Firefighters are putting in 24-48 hour shifts. Police from all over the western United States are helping patrol the streets to stop looting and gawking. Bowling alleys are offering free games, toy stores free play hours, there's free WiFi everywhere, and endless cups of coffee. I returned to work yesterday and hugged customers when I didn't know what else to say.
Needless to say, there's been no actual "homeschooling" this week. My heart isn't in it while I'm trying to figure out each day. There's time for that later. We've been cataloging our possessions, studying our homeowner's insurance, watching a lot of TV to pass days inside. We'd volunteer, but right now, with enthusiasm as high as it is, they have all the volunteers that are needed. I know in another week or two, they'll need more, and then we can help.
Be thankful for what you have. Hug your children. Don't take anything for granted.