Gia Majune

I had goals

After two weeks “off” from work I had a list of goals for myself. On Sunday I decided to buy a daily task journal. I have a few of these but I decided I needed one with something a little different. I made a list of the things to come in the morning and I felt full of energy. Ready to take on a new year. When I woke up Monday, I was on a roll. 

Bed made

Shower

Breakfast

Morning workout

Started my workday at 9

Write my 3 blog posts for the week…

And then I sprained my ankle. You may be wondering (or not) how I managed to do that, and it can only be explained by the words of my therapist. “Sometimes our body will make us be still” or maybe I’m getting older. I’ve never had an issue with aging, and I do plan to age gracefully. I’m not scared of lines or wrinkles, but I am terrified of not being able to move freely. 

For the rest of the week, I would find myself hobbling around trying to avoid tripping over my cat. My moves would be slow and steady to match what I assumed life would be this week. Until Tuesday morning when I found myself and all my loved ones amid a fire season that I don’t remember ever occurring in the 24 years that I’ve lived in California. 

Living in Southern California for all its beauty means you also accept all its danger. I’ve adjusted to the fact that some part of the state would be on fire during a few of the fall months, but this is something different. I haven’t felt this sense of dread since there was a massive fire in the High Desert in the early 2000s. I can faintly remember slowly evacuating down Highway 18. Our view was a smokey road swirling with embers that danced like fireflies as I sat in the back of the family SUV with my child that was much too young to recognize the immediate danger we faced in that moment. It’s scary to watch the fire move as it pleases because the elements hold a beautiful power that we could never match. I felt helpless in that moment, and I feel the same helplessness now. There are no words that I can speak that will rebuild the homes my friends have lost. There is no hug warm enough that will return the history to the places that have been lost in our community.

While we wait for the fires to burn out, we must hold space for one another. There is a palpable grief vibrating through the city but there is also a strong sense of community as those that are safe help those that have lost. I hold that energy dear because I think leaning into and onto community is going to be the reality for many of us as the years go on. 

Resources for those affected by the fires: 

https://www.lahsa.org/news?article=1014-resources-to-support-those-during-the-l-a-fires