The Holiday Fire

They say the winds will pick up again this afternoon.  But right now, early morning, it’s calm outside, and cooler than it’s been in a couple of days. I’m doing the thing I learned one summer in Italy:  Open every window in the morning, run the fan, and then the moment the heat shifts, and it’s warmer outside than inside, close all the windows, blinds, and shutters to keep the cool air in, the sun out.  Don’t turn on the lights.

We don’t have air conditioning, like so many people who live near the beach as we do, and I don’t want it, for a number of reasons.  But it’s been hot the last couple of days.  Like Texas or New York hot, like Miami hot, like make me want to get out the vote and give to hot.

It’s too hot for where we are.  It shouldn’t be like this.  

And I knew, I knew last night when the winds were blowing big time and the heat was scorching even after the sun went down, I knew there would be fire.

And so this morning I was not surprised to see the alert on my phone, that came just after we turned the lights out, that an out of control wildfire was raging a few miles north of us.  The official evac zone is ten miles north of us, and I’m thinking about where we will go or if we will go or if we will stay and wait to see if the wind starts raining ash on us or if the wind brings actual flames our way.  I hear the choppers.

20 homes lost so far, according to the news.  And I’m bummed because I wanted to go to Yoga, not plan an evac, this morning.  Yes, that’s how selfish my brain can be.  Wildfire was not on my schedule.  But here it is.

We are not in danger and I won’t let it get to that.  For us, right now, it’s just inconvenient.  Annoying.  For the people who’ve lost everything in this one, it’s a different story.  I hope we won’t share that story.  Not this time, not ever.  

But we all take turns it seems.  And given this past year’s events I’d be lying if I said my emotional state was completely proportionate to the current threat level.  

But Ax has chocolate chip pancakes to finish and I will maybe do a bit of stretching before packing up.  And then we will probably go somewhere before the roads clog up, under our family philosophy of, “There’s no need to panic, and there’s no need to wait to be officially evacuated when danger comes near.”

I’m gonna keep going.

Prayers for Goleta, prayers for all of us.