Happy 4th of July

The air in my house smells like charcoal briquettes - but not because of a festive holiday barbecue. I just had my first close call with what was almost, what could have easily turned into, a wildfire. There was a fire so close to my house, my home, the one my parents built together before our family fell apart - so close - 100 yards? 200? - I’m really bad with distance – let’s just say it was really fucking close - and I had no idea it was happening until it was almost over. I was in the living room, reading a lovely Gladys Mitchell mystery, when I looked out the window and thought, “man, it sure is getting hazy today.” And then I smelled the smoke. I ran to the window and saw flames. And billowing clouds of smoke. I saw flames. Not on my property, but really fucking close. I think the only time I’ve been that scared is when a bus almost ran Jennifer and me off the side of a mountain in Italy. But that fright lasted two seconds. This lasted longer. I ran out the front door and saw a fire engine careering up our shared driveway to my neighbor’s house, then I ran back to the window and saw another one pulling up to the smoke. My mind was almost empty. All the time I spend living in my head, now my only thoughts were “But I just moved here. Where am I going to have my furniture delivered if this house doesn’t exist anymore?” I started shoving things into bags and loading them into the car. For the first time I can remember Sugar was hiding from me and didn’t come when she heard the rattle of her treats. She must have sensed my panic because she did not want me to touch her. Luckily she hasn’t had much practice avoiding me and I threw her, with love but some fear manifesting as aggression into her travel crate. Then I went back to the window. The smoke was lessening. I sat in the window (for what, ten minutes? maybe 15?) watching the firefighters move busily back and forth as the smoke slowly dissipated and finally disappeared altogether. The trucks are gone now. There’s no more activity in the neighbors’ trees. I’ve let Sugar out of her crate. But I’m still staring out the window. My hands are still shaking. Living in the mountains doesn’t feel quite so appealing today. My view, of the meadows that are gradually turning brown in the summer heat, doesn’t seem as lovely. I’m still scared.