Post-fire Thoughts

I sit in a computer lab on campus, looking over peoples’ shoulders as they type papers, read articles, check their emails – everything has come full circle – and it appears we have gained normality once again. The fires never touched the hills behind CSUSM, though people I spoke to said that the dorms had caught fire, the college was half burnt. Oh, sweet, tormenting rumors and exaggerations. The paper in front of me reads Reining in the Flames: Remaining blazes close to containment; Santa Anas may return this weekend… Will our lives always be dictated to by the weather, by the papers? We hope for the end, foreseeing more catastrophes and dangers.

My home in Ramona, as reported by my father, is fine. I have not seen my house since last Sunday (over a week ago). That is no real matter, seeing that I live out of my car anyway. Wherever I drive to, I can live at that location. So living at my step-dad’s house in Encinitas was fine. Spending the night in Oceanside was no ordeal, but I long to be in Ramona, to be “home”.

Since my family’s exodus of Julian more than ten years ago, I have suffered from homelessness. Not that I do not have a house, not that I have no place to call my own, but I lack that place where I can stand, breathe, and feel content; feel safe, and feel at home. My room in my house in Ramona is the closest thing I have to that place of sanctuary. I have taken my time decorating it, tuning it to perfection so that it has a sense of a forest, a haven of sorts. The walls are a dark green, the shelves on the walls are pine, and my bed sheets brown and tan. When I evacuated Sunday night, I took my pictures off of the wall, the framed photograph by Ansel Adams, my computer, and a few books – leaving my room blank and empty.

I long to fill those spaces. I want to sit on my bed and stare at my mirror and imagine that I am a child again, home in Julian, surrounded by a green forest (my walls), with a cool wind in my hair (as I listen to the whir of my ceiling fan) and I can feel the soft earth beneath me (my carpet).

I can only imagine being home and what that would smell like. Maybe one day I will find that this daydream has materialized. But until then, I just want to sit in my room and remember Julian…