After meeting friends downtown for dinner, the family headed home last night for baths and bed. We were caught completely off-guard as we rounded the curve on the US-101 and saw a wall of flames so low on the ridge that it appeared to be in our own neighborhood. Not wanting to frighten the children, Rob and I just stared at each other. "This is not good," he said and stepped on the gas. The world got progressively darker as we got closer to home, even as the view in the rear view mirror remained blue and sunny. We made it off the freeway minutes ahead of the road closures, following code three engines from Pasadena, Long Beach and Glendale. The view from our driveway was Armageddon; no electricity at all, pitch black skies, smoke so thick it burned your eyes and throat, and a nearly solid wall of ashes sticking to our eyelashes and airways. Radio coverage told us that 250 houses 1/4-mile north of us were being evacuated, and their cars soon lined our street in exodus.
To ward off panic ("My scared!" whispered Lucie), the kids were given instructions to pack up the things that were most important to them. A pile of karate-clad bears, piggy banks, green army men, high heels and pretend cell phones quickly accumulated in the doorway, competing for space with photo albums, computers and insurance paperwork.
Friends called to offer lodging, but in the end we decided to wait it out until official evacuation orders were issued. Grayson was tucked in my bed (again!) in tears because we had made the evacuation sound like so much fun and he was disappointed not to participate. Sometime past midnight our own hearts stopped racing and the car keys were tucked inside shoes for a quick getaway.
The helicopters woke us with a start at 5am as they surveyed the damage; 3,000 acres and growing. But we were all safe, no firefighters had been injured, the sky was a more friendly blue, and we had an ash covered home to call our own for another day.
Comments