Home.

Back in December of 2020 there was a fire. I did my oh November post about the first one that came through in October but I didn’t get into the details of this fire because I was really just flying through the season with blogmas and all of the other things going on.

So now I want to talk about the second fire in December and about how during that month my house, became my home officially. It’s only take 7 years or so…

December 3rd 2020 a fire broke out in our canyon and this time luckily we where home.

It started during a high wind event with all of the power being out in our homes.

A generator back fired and lit up a house and then… it went all over from there.

At the beginning on the fire our radio tower burned and made all communications between canyons and residents difficult and with the electric company having us in a power safety shut it made all communication stop dead in its tracks.

#SilveradoFire

Waking up neighbors banging on their doors yelling “Fire!” Over the loud sounds of generators running and other canyon neighbors driving honking their horns nonstop wasn’t how I wanted to spend the evening. Between the sirens all going off in my head and all throughout the canyons I couldn’t get my mind to focus on what was actually going on.

It wasn’t till the car was packed and I sat outside listening to it all and seeing the glow at 3:00 am that I started feeling the sick to my stomach. Started fully coming to grips with what was happening around me.

Watching cars being packed in the glows of flash lights. The sounds of generators being shut off and neighbors hollering back and forth to each other about updates.

From our car window on Fire Watch Patrol that evening.

As we packed our cars to head to the MIL’s I felt something break over me. Something I haven’t felt for a long time, since I was taken from my home in IL, came over me, “don’t take me from my home”. My childhood came flooding back of having everything packed and shoved into cars and being overwhelmed with the pain of not having a choice. Not getting an option.

I cried the whole way to the MIL’s in the car with the cats crying in unison from the back seat. Singing worship music and praying God would let me go home again. That I wouldn’t have another one taken from me before I was ready.

Darla adjusting to the MIL’s place quickly enough.

It was the first time since I was 14 that I desperately wanted to go back home and that place in my mind wasn’t Illinois. It wasn’t my small blue house with the tiny front porch and crab apple tree in the front yard.

This is Davis Rd 2019

It wasn’t thinking about Davis Rd and my old neighbor who taught me how to shoot a bow and arrow.

I was seeing our little cottage. Surrounded by the billion oak trees and the gardens I have worked so hard on. I was seeing all of the flooring of our home that I wanted replaced and thinking about how I would kiss the gross stains on the carpet if I could just turn the car around and go back to them.

But it was a few days till that would happen. We sat at the MIL’s for a good 2 nights and waited to hear any news.

When we finally got to come home it was the best feeling being let into the canyon again. Being able to drive down our roads and just see it again. And then I saw it. Coming up over the hill the fresh burn. While being over joyed to go home it also broke seeing the blackened trees and scortched earth.

But I was home. I got home.

I had a tiny celebration once home again and reacquainted with my love. ❤️

So this is the tale of how December really went here. It was long and hard work cleaning and clearing for the flood and rain season that’s happening now.

The flash floods and mudslides that happened last week brought it all back and reminded me of the fact that not only fire can take my home here.

Living. Loving. Reliving.

Emily A G🏡

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