It's been six months since the Eaton Fire tore through our town. Caught off guard, I had nothing sentimental or important on me when I drove Zoe to her grandparents' house that night to avoid the high winds that were howling relentlessly and wreaking havoc already. We saw the bright orange fire in the mountains when we got onto the freeway overpass, and I will never forget what it looked like, sprawled out before us, dangerously near. We thought that maybe some people living near Eaton Canyon would lose their homes, but had no idea that it would come to us, right up to our fence, lighting up the palm tree over our back yard, and engulfing our neighbors' houses. It still is really hard to process how unreal the whole thing was, even upon seeing blocks upon blocks of flat, dirt lots lined with sandbags, dotted with sprouting weeds, on the way to the park and the library.
Yet, here we are, back in our home. Sometimes, it feels like we'd never left, as we go through our daily grind and live life like we had been before. Here and there, I catch myself thinking: wow, we're actually back. In the midst of the most mundane things, like fixing Zoe's breakfast, looking for a misplaced stuffed animal, restocking the toilet paper, and putting away clean laundry into the closet and dressers, it hits me how we almost lost all of this. I feel so relieved, that we have our routine back, especially during summer as I am off work and Zoe is only in school part-time. We've been baking, crafting, playing games, reading books, having slow mornings for the last few weeks, just soaking in the home and the quality time that we have together at this point in our lives.
