The Unthinkable by Sue Robin

Russ spotted the flames when he looked out our dining room window on Wednesday evening. Within minutes, the Sunset Fire exploded, about three miles east of our Laurel Canyon home. Over the years, we have watched the fires off in the distance. I got used to seeing the smoke and being able to judge how far away we were. This was different.

A few minutes later, we received an evacuation warning. We did not wait for the mandatory order but left to go stay with my sister. The traffic down the hill was bumper to bumper.

We sat together watching the TV coverage of the firefighters battling the Sunset Fire. Suddenly, their feed switched to another one that had just started on Sunswept Drive, about a mile and a half from our home. The conditions were good for firefighters and they were able to extinguish both fires that night. We were back home Thursday, but while we had electricity, we still had no cable or internet. Friday afternoon those were restored. We are safe and well, but in a state of shock.

That’s the specifics. It is surreal and an incredible nightmare. 

The fire in the Palisades spread to Topanga Canyon, my prior home. It is the place I lived with my son after a painful divorce. I grew strong and fiercely independent while living in that wonderful, funky canyon. I know Topanga is on mandatory evacuation, but because it is an unincorporated city, the coverage is spotty. I know that my old neighborhood of Fernwood was mentioned, but no details. I know parts of the state park have burned. Memories abound of hikes with my son and friends through that scrub.

We have been out to our usual dining spots, which are typically noisy and filled with people. It is as though someone hit the mute button. The places are full, but there is a respectful quiet that is more noticeable than the noise.

The air purifier has been running non-stop and the windows, usually open at least part of the day even in winter, are shut. We are back to wearing N95 masks. The fires need to be out, and the air needs to move, and a bit of rain would not hurt to cleanse the air.

The air is filled not only with the smoke and ash, but with our heavy hearts. Lots of tears and fears hang there too. Everyone we speak to knows someone who has lost everything. The news channels are now back to regular programming and though the fires and danger are far from over, things have calmed a bit, at least for now.

There are many angels amid the flames and ash. My gratefulness and heartfelt thanks extend first to the firefighters from our local neighborhoods and from communities, states, and other countries for their herculean efforts in battling these unimaginable fire storms. And to the thousands of Angelenos who have donated clothing and goods and housing for those who lost everything. May they be blessed with kindness tenfold.