Photo: L. Weikel
Measure of Guilt
If you live pretty much anywhere on the East Coast, I’m pretty sure you experienced one of those perfect September days today that’s hard to overstate. The hint of fall puts just the slightest, ever so subtle edge to the air when a breeze rustles your hair and cools you down after mowing the lawn. I feel some measure of guilt when I begin to write about days like today when I see the suffering occurring elsewhere in our country.
The fires in California, Oregon, and Washington are terrifying in their devastation. I find it hard to wrap my mind around what it must feel like to see fire rampaging up a mountain toward my home or hear the otherworldly roar of the inferno as it voraciously consumes everything in its path – and sets its sights on me. Or my husband and children. Or my pets.
The photos of the firefighters, splayed out helter skelter on the coolness of a concrete sidewalk, the air all around them a distorted version of pumpkin spice are beyond disturbing. The stories of people being forced to run – literally attempt to outrun a fire on macadam that burns the shoes off their feet – only to discover their loved ones turned back or never made it out of the driveway boggle the mind.
Dead End
I wrote a bunch of words since writing the paragraph above and I just had to delete them. Yeah, I can mouth the words of trying to find some positive arising out of this devastation and heartache – wisdom, perhaps? Appreciation for what’s really, truly, deeply important? A forced re-set of our life?
But it just rings hollow tonight. Anything I might write as I sit here in my comfy home surrounded by my beloved animals with plenty of food in my refrigerator and pantry, a cool breeze of fresh air pouring in through my windows, is warped by my perception – which is admittedly extremely narrow and unbelievably fortunate.
As I said at the beginning, I cannot imagine the terror of being forced to evacuate my home under the threat of a wildfire.
There are a lot of simply awful things people are being forced to endure this year. Yeah, people get sick and die all the time. But not like this. And yeah, wildfires happen every year. But not like these. And hurricanes form and threaten and pound upon the coast every year. But not as early and often as this year.
We must hang in there. No matter how hard or awful things feel. No matter how much we lose. We must hold onto each other. We have to find a way.
(T-440)