The Day of the Fire

The day of the fire was like any other Tuesday in late August....HOT! It must have been at least 107 and like most summer afternoons, fairly windy. While the afternoon breeze is usually welcome on mild spring and winter days, the dreaded winds in summer and fall are met with anxiety and cautious trepidation in almost all of southern California. Like most people who choose to make their homes in outlying areas, we know of the risks we face and take every precaution feasible to eliminate most fire hazards. But no matter how prepared you may think you are, when a fire breaks out it is often unpredictable, and depending on the weather, terrain, and the response time of the fire crews, there really isn't much you can do to stop it. And so was that day, a perfect storm of events and conditions, that set the course of our lives in a direction that we had absolutely no control of.
Up until that day our home had been the place where the family came together to eat, play and celebrate the traditions in life. From birthday parties, graduations, bridal and baby showers, to our first born's wedding, that house signified everything that was good, honest and important not just to us but to most of our family. We felt blessed to live where we did and welcomed all to share it with us. The house's demise would impact so many and we didn't realize how much until it was all ablaze and its destruction broadcast on the evening news.
My sister-in law from San Diego was the first to call my cell phone just minutes after seeing the news. It seems the helicopters were flying over the burning house that my middle son Matt and I had just recently fled and were displaying to all the final chapter of what was once our home. Minutes before, my son and I weren't too sure we would get out in time before the smoke and flames would overwhelm us, but thanks to his better judgment and against the orders of the fire department to stay inside the house, we bolted. Thank goodness Matt was there with me otherwise I am not so sure I would be here to write this. But as luck would have it I had been home alone most of that day and had let my youngest son Alex take my car to school; I was finishing up my latest home improvement task and so I didn't need my car. Matt, who has his own home, was sleeping off a graveyard shift as a deputy sheriff and was fortunately awakened by a call from a fellow deputy who thought heavy smoke he'd seen might be near our home. I had just minutes before walked outside and immediately smelled smoke and looked skyward to see a huge gray and orange ball of terror quickly blowing my way. I ran into the garage and dialed 911 and was informed that the fire department had been dispatched, unfortunately there was so much smoke they couldn't even see my house nor know I was even there. As soon as I had hung up with them, Matt called and asked if there was a fire nearby, "yes" I replied "and it's close!" he instructed me to grab what I wanted to save, stack it in the garage, and give him ten minutes to get there.
In what seemed like several seconds, I quickly ran upstairs, grabbed the safety deposit box, my son's very small dog Paris Hilton, yanked two large drawers from the high boy dresser in the living room which contained important papers and an assortment of pictures, my purse and placed them all in the garage. I frantically began searching for our 14 year old cocker spaniel Daisy, but to no avail. She more than likely went into hiding as the fire drew nearer and refused to come out. Because Matt had not yet arrived and I could now see giant flames leaping closer and closer, I thought that I should try and start the gas powered water pump that we kept on the pool deck in the event of a fire. As hard as I tried I could not get the engine to turn over, smoke was everywhere, and I could feel the air getting hotter and hotter. I could hear the phone ringing in the garage, it was John, my husband, "I'm on my way!" he said, I hysterically screamed "HURRY!"
Just then Matt's white truck came screeching into the driveway, "get in!" he yelled, "the fire is almost here!" We grabbed the dog and the things in the garage and tore down the driveway. As soon as we reached the security gates we met head on with the forestry department, "go back!" they yelled "you can't get out, the fire is here, we just made it!" Needless to say we were ordered to get back inside the house and ride out the fire. The firefighters assumed that they could fight the fire but it unfortunately was fueled by heavy brush and scrub oak that had been growing for over fifty years, it was too much for one small water truck and three brave guys.