I brought the kids up to my parent’s house this week. Driving down the driveway for the first time after the fire was different than I’d imagined. I’ve seen a ton of pictures and for some reason I thought that would prepare me, but I wasn’t prepared for how much bigger it felt as I drove up the driveway. At the same time the rooms were smaller.

In college I moved around several times. It’s always weird how when a room devoid of things looks so tiny, but magically fits a bed, a dresser (or desk), a side table. When all the things are in a room then it feels right, it feels confortable. So seeing the outline of where the rooms once were seemed off. Where the rooms always this small? How did we ever fit so many things in here? My parents, their four kids, and all our various friends—that house always felt like it could cram another dozen people in it.

I peeked in the window where we stay with the kids and the beds are a pile of ash. The closet where my mom had stored my wedding dress in hopes my daughter would want to wear it was also gone. I thought it would be no big deal, sad, but that I’d already prepared myself. I was over at my in-laws visiting and I asked my sister-in-law if she wanted to come. I’m glad she was there. It was nice to have someone to share the shock with.

As I write this, the air is filled with smoke from over twenty fires burning in the county from thunderstorms. I can’t help but worry for the people being evacuated and knowing some of them will feel the way my family feels right now.

(Pictures of my parent’s house curtsy of Tammy Strobel, www.rowdykittens.com)

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