Stories from the firestorms of October, 2007

360 DEGREE VIEW

MONDAY DUSK:

Not supposed to leave the house due to bad air from fires and smoke.

Stir crazy forced to listen constantly to radio fire news, to see if we need to evacuate.

Had to get out.

Walking the dogs, we cross the street and climb a hill with a 360 degree view of the skies.

Eastern sky so bright blue it thinks it’s a normal day,

Juxtaposed to a southeastern puffy dark thick grey cloud rising boldly from the Escondido fires.

I feel scared it might be near my sister who’d gotten the “prepare to evacuate” notice.

Turning left the northern sky curls then thins the grey clouds into long strips that look like city smog.

Turning west toward the ocean the orange sun can’t break through hazy filters of brown and rust.

Looking south beyond our house toward the lake, the sky is brown where a fire was recently contained.

A Somber Sight.
A Variegated Sky.

MONDAY EVENING:

Once the two fires closest to us were contained, I no longer had to listen intently to live fire coverage. Relieved from constant vigilance, I felt compelled to use my energy to help others.

Drove to a nearby evacuation center.

Given a bright yellow, “How May I Serve You?” volunteer button, I do art with kids then wander over to a huge room where people are clustered in groups on the floor preparing to spend the night. I walk around visiting with people, help set up cots, and hand out pillows and blankets while standing in the center with a 360 degree view of the room.

Doors on the east wall open as new evacuees enter looking haggard and a little lost, towing young kids clutching pillows for security.

Scanning north a Mexican family of six sit together on the floor, look at me shyly and I smile warmly.

Northwest, a young couple at a table angry and worried about their parents, who were here, but went back to the evacuated house to get their sister’s car.

The west wall houses a stage and giant television showing wildfire coverage that most people watch.

In front of me toward the west at a table is a big blond mother of four. At lights out the mother calmly but firmly says, “Lie down right now” to her pouting 8 year old who doesn’t want to sleep on the floor.

Southwest, a woman helps her 90 year old mother take insulin. One toddler in blue pajamas racing around the entire room swipes an apple off the backpack of a 70 year old woman obliviously staring at the news from a lounge chair.

On the south wall a young couple asleep in each other’s arms with no bedding but a jacket under his head.

On the east wall three Asian teenage sisters share one big blow up mattress, and an older Asian man, formally dressed, bows graciously to me.

We set up a cot for the 90 year old woman who tells me with bright eyes, “This is the second time I evacuated. As a child I was evacuated from a flood, now from this fire. I guess I’ve come full circle.” I want to tuck her in like we used to do Mom but just smile instead. Then they turn out the lights and I feel sad to leave.

A somber room.
A variegated sight.

VS-10-26-2007