What stuff do you take in a fire?

How one day can change everything

Last Tuesday night, my daughter begged to join me on the nightly dog walk. The winds were violent, the walls shook, and roof panels littered the sidewalks. Against my better judgment, I allowed it. We stood on the sidewalk as trash blew down the street like fallen leaves and stepped over fallen oak branches. When the wind kicked up, I told her to put her head down and I watched for foreign objects coming our way. “Mom this must be what it felt like to be Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz.”

We had listened to updates on the Pacific Palisades fire all day. It was on the West side, we live on the East. Upon returning home my husband texted me, “Fire in Altadena.” This quaint town against the San Gabriel mountains lies due north of us on the East side. I used to belong to a writing group that met at a home there. Her enchanted backyard was filled with deer traversing the hills and I often spotted peacocks on the road walking back to my car. I told my husband that I would love to find a home in those hills.

We are not strangers to annual fires in California. Our skies have filled with smoke, and ash has rained down on the hoods of our cars. “It could never reach us here.” I think those very words came out of my mouth. But the wind has changed everything.

At 6 a.m., our phones chirped loudly, our daughter ran into our room confused. It was an evacuation warning. We opened the front door and looked up to the sky. It appeared like black ink pooling into a blue sea toward us. There are so many people in Los Angeles and no one wants to be caught on a freeway in a fire - which is exactly what happened in Pacific Palisades. I’ve heard personal accounts of people having to flee by foot because the fires move so quickly, but traffic does not.

My husband ran to get gas while I loaded up a few suitcases. I stood in the middle of the living room, blank. I felt so wide awake, a bit in shock, and unable to determine what was important. What do I take? Passports? Birth certificates? You are always told to take those things but they are in the end, they are all replaceable.

I thought about what would make us comfortable: clothes we wear everyday, my portable pour-over for coffee, a sketchbook and markers, my daughter’s yarn and hook, dog food, a few books, some movies to watch, snacks, water, and a blanket we love that feels like home.

Our stuff didn’t matter - being safe did. We left quickly. Two minutes in, a mandatory evacuation notice chimed on our phones. One hour in, I realized I had forgotten all of my daughter’s daily heart medications. This hurt me the most. That it never occurred to me to grab them. But I soon discovered with one call to her doctor, they were easily replaceable.

We headed to my aunt’s home in a beach town a few hours south of Los Angeles. There, the skies were blue and everyone was going about their day like nothing was happening. It was as though we entered an alternative universe in which none of this happened.

It was close to 5pm and the sun was setting. I asked everyone if they would like to walk down to the beach and watch the sunset. We sat on the rocks bathed in the beautiful glow of those Southern California lights. A couple with two small boys asked if we would take a photo of their family. She said, “We don’t know what else to do, we just lost our home.” It never fails to amaze me, how one day can change everything. They too, were existing in this alternate universe - only they had the worst possible outcome - having nothing to return to.

I positioned our puppy cam in our front window at home. This enabled us to know if the fires reached our doorstep. It did not. While reports predict winds this week, we decided to go home but keep our bags packed. I wondered, what would pack this time? What did I forget? My husband and daughter never fail to make a joke like “You brought the bar of chocolate from your Christmas stocking but forgot the heart meds?” We all laugh. I do love coffee and chocolate.

We opened the door to our home, and everything was there as we left it. My daughter’s sewing needles littered the coffee table. My husband’s cup of coffee left unfinished. My desk with piles of found stones and leaves. All the records and books we’ve collected. My plants still reaching toward the sun. While I love all the stuff we fill our lives with, it does not mean much without a home to put them in. We all create a space full of the things that light us up. We create rituals of daily comforts that make us feel loved and safe. You can not pack that up in a bag when your community burns down around you. My heart goes out to all those in my community who lost their homes.

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If you live in Los Angeles, you should follow this group on Facebook. Edgar McGregor created it. You can read about this 24-year-old who predicted the Altadena fire and told his community to get out the night it broke. He geeks out on the weather and has been tracking the Santa Ana winds for many years. He makes wind predictions daily and we all show up to read them. Kind of amazing.

Until Next Time ✨
Kim