It’s quite an alarming feeling to watch a fire rage literally “from your backyard.” I had taken my children to a musical this afternoon. When we left the house, I had heard about the wildfires in nearby cities and even saw the billowing dark black smoke. As we made our way home and finished up a quick drive through McDonald’s my cell phone rang. It’s my husband telling me to drop whatever I am doing and get home. The fire is close and I need to gather important papers and pictures. Traffic has been a complete disaster all the way home. As we approached the hill, I drove faster.
Barely parking, we hopped out of the car, running around to the back of our house. It’s like just watching orange streams and clouds shoot out of the hills. My five year old immediately begins an emotional melt down and we attempt to calm her. I find myself trying to pack important items while being clued to the local news. One of the prevailing thoughts I have is that I am glad that all the things that are important are stored together in places where I can easily pack them up and place them by the door. In one swoop, I know where our passports, birth certificates and family pictures are. With that done, it made it easier to move on to packing a few clothes for everyone. It’s surreal to sit on my bed watching and monitoring the fire at the back of the hill.
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