Smoke, Fear, Brain Stuff
So Ax and I had just finished the whole bedtime routine last night, the long trudge of brushing, flossing, final peeping, him reading a bit, me reading a bit more, him asking for more reading, me giving it through heavy eyes, then the getting up, the cracking the door open for Cleo so she doesn’t wake us with her in/out all-night demands, and 1,2,3 lights out. And that’s when we smelled it: Smoke.
We began our prayers in the dark, but the smell of smoke was strong enough to be distracting. I thought barbecue. Ax thought bacon, or possibly Thomas Fire.
I called Mike. He said, “Did you get dressed and walk around outside to see if there’s a tree burning or something?”
I said, “No, I closed the windows so we can’t smell it as much.”
He said, “How about you take a look around outside?”
So I put on a bathrobe, told Ax to wait in the doorways and did some barefooted peeking around, front, back, side, side. No clear source. But also not a huge amount of smoke, definitely felt like maybe a fire pit or fireplace (though so warm out?) Not bacon-y, not chemical-y, not a good smell, but not thick at all, maybe not close. I thought of how Alaskans have lots of words for snow and how maybe Californians need more words for different kinds of smoke.
I came back inside. I said, “I think it’s probably just someone barbecuing. Let’s get back to bed.”
Ax said, “Who would be barbecuing in the middle of the night?” It was 8:30pm.
“Different people have different habits.” I said.
“Why would anyone light a fire outside?” He said.
“Actually lots of people like to have fire pits or barbecues outside.” I said. “We don’t do that but people do.”
“If they like doing that, why haven’t we smelled it before? Why are they just starting now?” He persisted.
“Well, maybe they are trying something new or maybe new people moved in. It’s hard to know. But we are safe. Do you know that?”
“One spark in high winds can make a huge fire. And there are winds today.” He said.
“It’s not that windy, and a contained fire that people are watching closely is okay.” I said, missing the point.
“Sascha,” he said, huffily, “I just don’t understand why anyone would light a fire outside in the middle of the night.”
“People do all kinds of things honey. But we are safe. Let’s say our prayers and get to sleep.”
“We’re safe as long as our roof doesn’t get blown off!”
“Our roof is strong. We are safe.” I said, thinking about our friends who thought they were safe when they weren’t. Wondering what the right thing to say was.
“We’re all gonna die but I’m pretty sure it’s not our turn yet, honey. Then again I really don’t know.” Seemed honest, but perhaps unnecessarily grim. I could add, “So we might as well get a good night’s sleep to feel our best while we can!” by way of perk.
Anyway, that happened. And as it gets closer to rainy season, holiday season, mudslide season, I’m thinking about how to talk to my kid and myself about memories, safety, and staying in rational brain state around all of it.
We have some time to strategize, plan, and prepare honestly and methodically before the next fire, the next storm, the next big one. And I’m going to prepare — emotionally. Get out of denial. Natural disasters are not surprises, they’re part of life’s challenges to be navigated. I’m gonna keep going.
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