Since the California Northridge Earthquake in 1997, I've kept a box of photo negatives close to the door, in case we have an earthquake and the house starts on fire. I never thought that I may have to grab that box because of a wildfire. Fortunately, I didn't have to, but came close. Two weeks ago, I moved from Foothill Ranch, where the Santiago Fire is still burning. My former neighbors did grab what they could and evacuated. I watched from the elementary school. It was hard not be able to help. Not only had I live there but I worked there.
The media was focused on the fire at the 241 highway toll road. No cameras, no helicopters, no masses of people were there...yet. Fire trucks arrived just in time. "If only I was still workiing there I could help" I said to myself. Since I couldn't be there, I did what I only could do. I prayed. I watched the tall Poplar trees, next to my former office, bow down to the earth with the mighty wind. Black smoke enveloped them. I prayed. The quiet community is nestled into a foothill. On top the foothill and the foothill to the right also was on fire. Immediately, between both of those foothills came flames so gigantic, it made the foothills look like ant hills. I prayed. I silently left the empy open field when I knew the precious apartment homes of so many families did not catch fire. The fire is big and mighty, some call it the "Devils Breath" I know the "Flames" where like giant mountains. Humbling.
My former boss for this apartment community also has a home in Mojeska Canyon (with horses) where the fire burned through. I don't know if she had any losses. She is having to deal with both situations. I am humbled. I prayed for her. For the past nights I look at this fire and also see the glow from the Horno Fire at Camp Pendleton, CA. I am humbled and I pray.
I'm looking for that box of photo negatives. I misplaced it in the move. I may need that box. I still live in earthquake country.