On this Thanksgiving Day, 2018, I am thankful for firefighters. I am thankful for the neighbors and guards in my community who risked their lives to save homes. Who saved my home.
I could go into minute detail about what it was like to see the beginnings of the Woolsey Fire from the top of my hill and I instantly knew “This isn’t going to go well”. About rushing through my house, packing, knowing I had three hours before the sheriff came through, getting us out as the fire raged towards Calabasas. What it was like to stay in a mid century modern motel in Burbank with other evacuees from Agoura Hills, Simi Valley and Thousand Oaks for five days, watching the news, checking Twitter and Facebook to know what was happening. The horror of the images of what the Woolsey Fire did to whole neighborhoods, wiping out homes in fancy and not so fancy communities, altering people’s lives forever.
I could tell you about the punch in my gut when I finally was allowed to return to my home with my dog and saw the devastation of my city. What it was like to see the entire hill my property sits on completely burned out and how close the fire came to my home. I could show you images I took of burned houses and melted fences, torched trees. But I can’t. I cannot cross that boundary. It doesn’t feel right.
So on this Thanksgiving Day, 2018 I am giving you firefighters. Because they are who I’m truly thankful for.