Through all the national emergencies of the last three months – hurricanes, shootings, fires, more hurricanes - I’ve found myself focused on the aftermaths. In the midst of the terror of “the unthinkable” actually happening, we inevitably discover something beautiful in its midst: human hearts and spirits responding in what often seems superhuman ways.
My sister works in Santa Rosa,
lives in Windsor just north of the hottest tongue of fire that snaked down
canyons from Calistoga three weeks ago.
She is the family’s anchor, and (with her stalwart husband) was
preparing to accompany our 91+ year old mother to Maui for perhaps her last
trip. Despite all the potential
disruption to that plan, they made it to the airport 6 days after the fire
began, while it was still uncertain when containment could occur.
The fires were out when they
returned, but restoration efforts had barely begun. I gave her a few days, then emailed her to
ask how her trip had been and if she’s getting caught up at work. She said no, she won’t be caught up for a
long time, but “I have a home to go home to and we’re all safe, so that’s all
that matters.” Then this:
“The
trip was ok but not the best trip we’ve ever had – I experienced some form of
PTSD/Survivors guilt and, combined with the exhaustion from the week and the
horrid winds that followed us to Maui that felt like the same winds that burned
my beloved town….I was not sleeping much. The only thing that made it ok
was that Lisa, Vince and John were safely ensconced in our house and it felt
like sanctuary for them so that was good.” Lisa, Carol’s lifelong friend who just
remarried, was away the night the fire started. John, Lisa’s son, had driven through flames to
wake Vince in their new home, which burned to the ground not long after the two
men escaped with their lives.
“Jordanna’s job at the County Assessors
office brings her in contact with everyone who’s lost everything; she’s holding
up ok but it’s hard on her, especially to hear the stories of the old people
that perished. Santa Rosa smells like wet ashtray, some of the
smell lingers in the office as well and the drive between downtown and Windsor
is just devastating to see the wicked and wild path of the fire – what it
spared and what it took. Every day is a
fresh reminder of what happened, what we’ve lost and the long and arduous road
we have ahead of us. #theloveintheairisthickerthanthesmoke”
The love in our hearts is thicker
than smoke, stronger than a rain of bullets, bigger than the largest tropical
storm system. I think our world would be
a safer place if we learned to count on that fact of life.
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Trudy
Wischemann is a resolute rural writer who works in Lindsay. You can send her your heart-in-action stories
c/o P.O. Box 1374, Lindsay CA 93247 or leave a
comment below.
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