The Santa Ana's were blowing wild all day and I hate being outside when the hot winds whip up every allergen known to man. I had heard the reports of fires earlier in the evening, but that happens every year about this time. It wasn't until I peered out the back windows of our home at about 3 am last Monday and saw an eerie glow rising from behind the far side of the canyon that I started to get nervous. Within an hour, it looked like there was an orange glow stick spanning almost the entire ridge.
By 4:30 am, I had made certain my kids were safely in Orange County with their dad and returned home to start packing. Although the fire line continued to widen, its intensity seemed to be weakening. I took that as a sign that I was overreacting. I vacillated between staring - mesmerized at the orange glow - and begrudgingly making a pile of items to save, knowing I would be complaining later at having to put everything away.
It wasn't until the sun began to rise that I realized why the glow had faded. The fire wasn't retreating; the smoke had thickened to the point where I could no longer see the fire at all. By then I thought I should take the whole evacuation thing a little more seriously and began to load the entire contents of our home into our two cars.
It was around 9 am when I looked out our kitchen window and saw that everything was orange. I could only see a few feet into our backyard with smoke swirling everywhere. I couldn't really grasp what was going on. It was well past sunrise, yet the sun was not visible, nothing was visible except an unsettlingly orange haze. I was afraid the fire had reached us and started yelling for my boyfriend.
It was at that same moment that my boyfriend rushed up to me, saying that a mandatory evacuation order had just been issued. I began to panic, worried that we had waited too long to get out. We threw a few more things in the cars and headed out. I was already upset and seeing the wind damage throughout the city only made it worse. Trees were blown over and palms fronds were blowing everywhere.
We found out a little while ago that our house is still standing. Unknown to us, a neighbor had refused to leave and sent us an email saying the fire had not reached our neighborhood.
While I appreciate having some relief from worry, why someone would stay is beyond me. There is nothing in wood, plaster, paper and plastic that cannot be replaced in time. Even keepsakes aren't worth risking life and limb. Dying for a building? Or worse yet, burning without death? The respiratory complications from breathing the toxins in smoke? I don't get it, never will.
