8 PM Tuesday night, Santa Ana winds howling like ghost trains, Morrison giving us all headlamps, our neighbor texting FIRE!!!! As another put the one in his yard out with a garden hose, a firetruck at the end of the street seeing to the tree that had fallen on the car, I’m weirdly calmly packing a go bag for the kids wondering, what do we wear when we evacuate? Bobbie’s heart balloon sweat suit seems right, because it will make this and other people smile. Comfort, but whimsy. Joe’s long sleeve car shirt will work nicely. Should I bring workout clothes? Why would I do that? Will we be hot, or cold? I count out night diapers. The next night we’re with friends down in Huntington Beach at a Hyatt hotel, where the gift shops and baked good options and wifi and heated pool lull your fear into a state of guilty calm and bliss. We let Bob eat pasta with red sauce with her hands, because why not, as Joe lies down on the floor under the restaurant table, because also why not. Soon we’ve taken her clothes off because they’re just clothes, and she’s feral and covered in pasta sauce, and we’re all in shock. We watch our ring videos for smoke. We still have our homes, and our clothes. We are lucky. So lucky. Here’s how to help a few friends who were not.
https://www.gofundme.com/f/help-liz-and-jeff-rebuild-after-fire/donations
https://www.gofundme.com/f/help-julia-and-kahlil-rebuild-after-fire