We are “the lucky ones.” We haven’t lost our homes... yet. Yet there’s another wind event coming, and with it, new evacuations and renewed concern. This is our reality right now:

We all have a story from that first night, how much time we had, or didn’t have, to pack up mementos and get out; some stories are far more harrowing than others.

Those of us who didn’t have to evacuate have played the “at what point should I leave and where to go” game; it’s not a fun game. Some of us have played musical houses, because the danger zone keeps changing - also not a fun game.

We end all conversations with “stay safe.”

We all know somebody who lost everything.

We all mourn and honor those who lost lives.

We now know what N95 means.

We have “liked” the Facebook pages of every official City/County page that might bring us news the fastest, because Facebook is the chosen avenue to get info to the community.

We live on Facebook, and can’t even go to sleep at night without checking all the official pages to see how close the nearest evac order is.

Our Facebook feed is filled with missing persons, missing and found pets, heartbreaking photos and videos, volunteer efforts, shelters, gofundme links, questions such as “how do I get my mail if my house burned down?” and miscellaneous helpful information.

We all now know what Nixle is and we flinch a little when we see a text message from 888-777.

We go to bed with our clothes on the side of the bed, ready to hop into them like a fireman’s uniform.

We wake up in the middle of the night and check Facebook.

We live hour-to-hour and can’t make plans for tomorrow without checking fire status.

Helicopters, bombers and sirens surround us every day.

We see lots of fire/sheriff/military vehicles on the road, from cities far and wide who’ve come to help, and we stay out of the left lane for them.

We’ve had our most cherished mementos packed in our cars for days, and our cars backed into our driveways for quick exit should it become necessary.

We have gas, electric, and cellular outages, so that we’re essentially camping in our own homes. Or someone else's.

We’re grateful for these inconveniences, because there are so many who have it worse than us.

We are ready for this shit to be over. So ready.

We are united in our hatred of these damned fires and the winds that feed them.

We are united as a community, whose hearts weep for those who are suffering, and want to help.

We are united in our desire to rebuild our beautiful community.