Fire. It’s been a bit of a threat here at Blueberry Hill Cottage. While my home is nestled against the Angeles National Forest, and it is surrounded by nature and wildlife and the very best that life has to offer, it also is exposed at times to wildfires brought on by wind, drought, and careless humans. Such was the case earlier this month.
We were in the thick of things with the Creek Fires. We were under evacuation orders. We scrambled to pack our car for the “escape” should it come to that.
Years and years of experiences in the form of artwork and trinkets and momentos sit on shelves and hang on walls. File cabinets filled with photos and unpublished stories are kept locked away for safekeeping. Treasured hand-me-downs and gifts — my father’s mandolin, my mother’s dress patterns, my uncle’s typewriter — are all memories of the people who made me me.
Which “things” does one choose to take?
When space and time are limited, it presents quite an extraordinary dilemma to choose one memory over another. The thought that in doing so, I am committing the one thing chosen to its survival, and the one that didn’t make the cut to its potential destruction is heartbreaking. [Read more…]
