By: Luz Ortega
I look to my right and find myself in front of the big window looking out at the world. From the window I can see the small guest parking lot to the trailer park where I live. No, I can’t move/ drive my house away. It’s a manufactured home. Its huge, high ceilings and big windows to let light in the living room. A manufactured home is built in two sections and put together on the lot you wish to put it on. To move it would require a lot of money and two huge trucks. The park where I live houses about 130 homes.
On the other side of the parking lot are more homes. I live in the middle, a little towards the back, which allows us a clear view beyond the two apartment complexes. One apartment complex, a huge 4 story building, is completed and has residences and seniors already living in it. They are in the process of finishing the other apartment complex and I believe they are currently installing the electrical wiring. This is the building I’m watching go up in flames.
It is a boring day. I just got home maybe an hour ago. My oldest sister was still at work and wouldn’t be home until after 6pm. The second eldest sister had just left to CSULB to get some studying done before her class started. My little sister had gotten home from tennis practice and was watching tv in the living room. My parents are watching tv in their bedroom, while I am sitting near my desk wasting time on the computer. There was a commotion outside, but I didn’t pay much attention to it. I have lots of neighbors close by and two of them are notorious for hating each other. I didn’t think much of it. Then I noticed the most curious sound yet.
Rain?
I lean precariously in my chair to look out the window. Can’t see much. I get up and look out to see ash floating in the wind. To my right, I see my neighbors looking straight ahead, so I quickly I turn my head. No, it can’t be. I run out of my room. Past the small hallway, into the living room and say, “There’s a fire.”
My mom comes and stands next to me.
“It’s on fire,” I repeat to her, the edge of panic in my voice.
“Si yo se.” Yes I know, she is the epitome of serene, trying to keep me from panicking. She goes back into her bedroom and tells my father. He doesn’t believe her because they also heard the commotion the neighbors were making and she jokingly said something could be on fire and we’re too lazy to check it out.
“Se esta quemando. Mira afuera!” Its burning, go look, I tell my Dad. He finally makes his way to the big window and instantly runs out to help my mother with the 50-foot hose to water down the garden and roof of our house, shoes forgotten by his bedside.
I notice the fire spreading across the 4-story wooden structure. Growing larger and wider with every minute that ticks by. Ash and large pieces of wood are drifting in the wind, blowing far and wide. I’m jittery. I decide to go out my front door and walk along the side of my house and peek over to see the fire. My house is a good distance away from the apartment complex and I’m still able to feel the intense fire heating my skin. I place my hand on my house to steady myself as I hear the sound fire makes, roaring with vengeance. I can hear wood breaking, snapping and cracking, the fire consuming the wood like it was starved all its life, and only now is allowed to eat its fill. As I watch the fire spreading I realize the true color of fire. It’s not red, orange or yellow but a combination of all three, the intense color of destruction.
To my right I hear my mother pleading to my neighbor to help my dad with something. Other people are panicking and yelling, one even fainted. Big pieces of burning wood are floating and falling, making sure other things catch fire too. The sheriff’s police car cruises slowly, coming to a stop in front of my driveway. Evacuation, the two officers informed my parents. Time to go. Now.
My Dad isn’t going to evacuate. The thought keeps racing through my mind. He won’t leave the house unprotected. Sure we have insurance, but my Dad’s life can’t be bought anew and billed later. My heart starts to race, and I find myself on the verge of tears. I can’t help but imagine being included in the statistics that states more people could have been saved if they just evacuated. The house and everything I own can burn up for all I care, but I know he won’t go. I dial my sister’s phone number. She’s only studying before class, I knew she would answer.
Like the dramatic sister that I am, I spit out everything when she answers my call, . They told Dad to leave but you know Dad. He’s not going to leave and the fire is so huge and smokeiseverywhereandthefireis spreading. It’s on fire and the police came by and they said we have to leave-”
“Calm down” she tries to get my attention, “take a deep breath and say it again.”
“There’s a huge fire and Dad doesn’t want to leave.” I try again, slower almost choking as the words came out of my mouth.
“Get the important papers and anything else,” my sister advises me, “I’m on my way”.
I yell at my little sister that we’re leaving. I go to my closet and just get an arm full of clothing. I run to my mother’s closet and get the emergency backpack,packed with our important papers. With my arm full of treasures I head to the family van and dump it in the back seat. I run back to get my older sister’s laptop only to find my little sister using it. Facebook, I look over her shoulder and instantly die a little on the inside.
“Why are you on Facebook? The Sheriff’s is evacuating everyone,” I yell at her.
“What- ”
“Get. Your. Clothes. In. The. Van. We’re. Leaving,” I say as I snatch the precious laptop from her. I watch her to make sure she gets her things before we make our way outside together. Wecatch my parents debating whether to leave or not. To convince my dad to leave, my mom points out that his beloved daughters need to get to safety. He starts the van, and we leave our home.
I stare wide-eyed at the police cars and fire engines lining up outside as my dad drives out of the mobile park. They close off the whole block and intersection. The fire is quickly spreading and becoming more and more alive. Crackling and hissing its displeasure at the firefighter’s attempt to put it out. The fire is only just starting.
My father parks the van in the Civic Center parking lot, just across the street. . I recognized the light blue Chevrolet that parks right next to our van. My sister.“Oh my god! Estay bien? Mire el umo desde el freeway,” Are you ok? I saw smoke from the freeway she says as she jumps out of her car. She hugs us all as my mom tells her everything.Tears sting my eyes and I desperately try to swallow the lump growing in my throat, I don’t know how firefighter’s families let them risk their lives. As I watch the fire from a further distance, I feel fear nestle on my shoulders and whisper tragic scenarios were the fire takes the life of one or more people.
I wrestle with this fear as my sisters and I decide to walk around the parking lot. We watch the fire for hours, waiting and wondering when will the firefighters and police let us back in our houses. By 9 o’clock it is obvious that is not going to happen. A neighbor of ours lets us know that The Red Cross is giving out Subway sandwiches and chips to the people evacuating. They are also booking rooms at the DoubleTree Hotel that is conveniently in the same parking lot of the Civic Center . We get our room keys go back to wait in the parking lot and watch the flames. More than six hours pass, and I still feel the unbearable heat from the fire on my skin.
We get to our hotel rooms, and I immediately turn on the news. Switching from channel to channel, I notice that the building on fire looks a little dark from the smoke. They show a clip from earlier, and I see, again, how big the fire was. The wind kept the fire from burning towards the street side. As I lay in bed I can’t help but feel thankful that no one died.The heat on my skin a gentle reminder to put life in perspective and to care about what really matters.
