I think we’re going to be ok.
By “we” I mean my beloved home town of Santa Barbara. Me? I was never in real danger. (Right?)
The Thomas fire is now the 2nd largest in the history of CA. The LA Times says that looks like this:
This fire is losing to better weather, and an unbelievable amount of hard work by brave people. Including, at one point, over 800 fire trucks. 800. That looks like this:
My friend Angela Borda reflected on the metaphysics of this fire, and of the Chinese Year of the Fire Rooster. Fire Rooster = Phoenix, rising from the ashes. (Right?) That’s hopeful. (Right?)
Me? How am I feeling?
I’m okay. (Right?)
Fine. I admit it. I’m only sort of okay.
It is hard to concentrate. I cry a lot. I keep my dog with me at all times. He is now allowed up on whatever couch or chair I’m occupying in the moment. He is comforting in a way I never anticipated needing.
I’m engaged in a massive binge read of Historical Romances, so that I can feel all the feels about fiction, not reality.
I believe it is keeping me from screaming at the contractors or engaging in pointless internet troll trolling. From watching 24/7 news cycles of destruction or sleeping more than 14 hours a day. From wishing my Dad could have been here to celebrate what would have been his 75th birthday Friday.
I will be okay. Hard is okay, it just isn’t “fine,” or “good.”
But soon, all will be “right,” as in up-right. Standing instead of sleeping. Running instead of shuffling. Right-on, up-right, fully righted. Soon.