The Most Unwelcome Guest

Fire has touched my life three times—three moments when its raw, uncontrollable power forced itself into my world and left me shaken. 

The first time, I was just five years old, a curious observer to a kitchen stove fire next door. I remember the shrill cries of panic, the flames devouring the curtains and spreading with a speed that seemed almost alive. I remember shaking with fear, my young mind overcome with emotion. It was the first time I understood that fire, for all its usefulness, had a terrifying will of its own.

The second fire came years later; I was a young woman living cheaply in an illegal apartment tucked at the back of an old tenement building. I smelled smoke, faint at first, then stronger and stronger, until I heard glass pop. I walked into the bedroom to find an entire wall ablaze. 

Windows shattered from the heat as the fire hissed and roared. With only one exit in the apartment, my life was saved because the back stairway was not blocked. Running frantically down the stairs, a feeling of helplessness so stark that I felt not even fear, I can only remember the heat, and the sound of popping glass.

The third fire was closer to home. One was a summer evening we were grilling bacon for our BLTs out on our back deck. Some fat dripped into the flames, a sudden flare up, and in an instant, the fire was no longer confined to the barbecue, but licking the ceiling of our deck. Our adrenaline surged as we fought to contain the flames, both too concentrated on action to even make a sound.

That fire was tamed, but the near loss left us shaken. Yet, my own personal brushes with fire pale in comparison to the devastation wrought by wildfires like those ravaging Los Angeles area this past week. Watching images of entire neighborhoods reduced to ash, families forced to flee, and a wild, beautiful landscapes transformed into blackened wastelands fills me with a sorrow that’s difficult to put into words. 

I lived in California for a short, happy time. I came of age in California, wandering her canyons and beaches, falling in love with life there. Visting as often as I could afford to, I have felt the Santa Ana winds and watched brush fires burn in the distant mountains. But watching the vast, unyielding forces of fire swallow lives, homes, and entire ecosystems this week instills in me a terror that turns my knees to jelly and makes me weep. 

The level of fear and loss that the victims of these fires have lived through and are experiencing now is beyond my comprehension. 

The wildfires in California, fueled by the Santa Ana winds, are a tragedy of unimaginable proportions. They serve a stark reminder that we share this planet with forces far more powerful than ourselves, and we live in their beautiful places at their pleasure. 

To the people of California, I extend my deepest sympathy. Your loss, your fear, and your resilience are felt by all of us who understand—even in small ways—the havoc fire can wreak. Fire is not just a destroyer; it is a teacher. And though its lessons are hard and unforgiving, they bind us together in shared sorrow, shared fear, and shared hope for healing.