The Fires

I had just begun to write that I am safe from the Los Angeles fires when an emergency evacuation blared over my phone. Although, I have a go bag, I panicked, running around the house looking for objects to take. In the end, there was very little that seemed important. A few pieces of art from my grandmother, who was a fiber artist, a couple of prints, and some photos. My dogs and our lives are, of course, the priorities. The evacuation notice, it turned out, was an error. It went to all of Los Angeles and shook plenty of people up.

Last Sunday, I was bragging to my father about sitting outside on a lovely January day surrounded by citrus trees and bougainvillea while he was in the freezing cold. Now the city is on fire, and I am glued to the evacuation alerts. I do believe we are far enough away from the fires, but fires can shift and move fast. The Palisades Fire has zero containment.

My nerves are fried.

I don’t know how to process such a catastrophic event. It’s surreal. My contractor was over this morning. His house burned down as did one of his sons. Everything went. They had to get out fast. He was in shock, but said he had to just keep going. He had no other option.

It’s devastating to watch so many lose not only their houses, their safe spaces, but also their memories. Pieces collected on travels, the boxes of children’s art, photo albums, heirloom furniture. Things that cannot be replaced. The good news is that the loss of life has been minimal so far, although that could grow.

I feel helpless. There is little to do aside from donating. On my last check, the shelters were fully stocked, and they are asking people not to bring things. Later, people may need more.

The one bright spot is how many people from all over have checked in to make sure that my family and I are okay. The offers of refuge. We are fine for now, but I am not taking anything for granted. I will remain close to my phone.