Last night I finally returned to Ramona. It had been exactly two weeks since I had been home and I knew what I should expect – but what I saw and smelled was far more than what I had prepared myself for. Even in the night I could see the blackness – the deep scar the Witch Creek Fire had left across the earth. My eyes watered for what I could not see, but knew was there; back beyond my limited sight, was the destruction of homes, groves, and lives.
I reached home under smoky stars. It baffled me that even after two weeks, including a day of rain, it could still be smoky.
I dreaded the drive to school this morning. Even though it would be partially concealed by the thick fog that covered the ground, I would still be exposed to more sights of burnt homes and melted plastic fences.
Fog blended with smoke, revealing its secrets slowly, without consideration for time. Trees loomed, dipping down out of the grey, and touched my vision. When the clouds lifted, the devastation was more readily available to me. The tears came and I choked back sobs, dust and ash in my nostrils.
For what I have sustained is nothing – but what these people who lived here, lived here, is more than I could understand, more than I could know.
“But there is suffering in life, and there are defeats. No one can avoid them. But it's better to lose some of the battles in the struggles for your dreams than to be defeated without ever knowing what you're fighting for." - Paulo Coelho
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