Brooke Writes Books... and Other Musings...

Exactly two weeks, I became a "fire runaway". Fortunately, my story has a happy ending, unlike so many others. Over 200 homes (at least... at first the estimate was over 500) were completely destroyed, with countless others damaged just in my town alone. Close to 9,500 acres were ravaged by flames so hot, vegetation and trees more than 100 years old were killed instantly.

I knew it was going to be a bad day when I awoke about 5:30AM that morning to learn the humidity was only 4%. In all the years I've lived here, the lowest I've ever seen the humidity first thing in the morning was around 30%. Even in the heat of day, the lowest was 7%.

Another sign was I could not only hear the wind howling--one of the things I love about my house is that I cannot hear the wind in most rooms and since I am not fond of wind, this is a good thing--but also could feel the house shaking from it.

Then I turned on the TV news to learn that sure enough, two fires had started at the east end of the area across the freeway. (A bit of geography: if we were to incorporate, in land mass we'd be second only to San Diego.) And since the wind was blowing from the north, probably no reason to worry... except that all emergency forces would be heading that way... so if something else were to start up, no one could come.

Feeling foolish, I decided to pack up stuff. I'd always had a plan of what I'd take: pictures my mother had created, a limited edition photograph from my brother, needlepoint pictures stitched by my step-grandmother, photos from my sister. Certainly important papers and a box of checks. A suitcase of clothes... with lots of underwear. Another suitcase of blankets and towels. Naturally Mac, Dell, and Dana, without question. Lots and lots of Zantac.

Gathering my possessions was not the problem... but I was a bit taken aback at how long it took to pack. An hour. I'd never have made it had I only had minutes like so many people I was learning about who were escaping from what became known as the Witch fire about 30 miles from me. But I had no real reason to worry... in a day or so, I'd be spending hours putting everything back and chiding myself for being such a worry-wart.

By 9AM, the fire had jumped the freeway (eight lanes plus a huge median). Not so good, but still a bit south of me and definitely east. With the wind still rippin' from the north.

By 11AM, they were evacuating the area where I'd made an offer on a home telling them to move west. Decision made: if we had to evacuate, I was takin' my dad and stepmother and their little dog (Suzy) with me... Began figuring out how to get all my possessions into the trusty HIghlander leaving enough room for all their prized possessions and them.

Around noon, my brother called from New York, (about the fourth conversation with him...plus two with my sister...) who told me that the evacuation area was now a huge swatch of the east side... moving very close to me. Funny... there was NOTHING on the any of the local news stations about this...

At one o'clock, decided it was time to pack the car and move on out. Best to get to my dad's place as he's located farther north... Said good bye to the possessions I was forced to leave behind trying not to acknowledge the fact that I might not see them again, and telling myself they are just "things"...

As I drove out of my neighborhood, noticed a house about two blocks from me was fully engulfed with no firefighters around. With a sinking feeling, I had to face the reality there was a very good chance I'd have nothing to come "home" to...

By 3PM, had everything else loaded, including Suzy's stuff with just enough room for passengers remaining. The HIghlander was pointed towards the escape route... which we hopefully remained positive we wouldn't be taking. And good news... my answering machine was still taking calls...

At 10PM, the wind shifted and the flames crested the hill in their march towards more destruction. We loaded up and moved 'em out...

to be continued...