The hardest part about seeing Altadena for the first time after 10 weeks of what I thought was grieving was actually seeing it.
I know the scale of it from videos, social media, and hearing about all the people who lost their homes and businesses but when I drove up there for the first time-it felt like Altadena was in a time warp.
I know the clean up process will take time-but for some reason it shocked me to see still how much was left.
It reminded me of the scale of this disaster.
In many ways-i’m not too sad about the personal loss of my house. I do miss my prom dresses that burned, all of my letters and journals I kept over the years, and the comfort of it, but the saddest part is knowing it's not just my home-it's thousands, more than that- It’s not just homes-it’s a town.
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I was sad to see all the burnt cars still parked in driveways, the bare mountains that now resemble a desert, burnt ash and structures still not cleared, the alter for my neighbor Laura who never left her house. I was confused by the random houses that stayed, and felt for the emptiness that they now hold-just because your house is standing in Altadena-doesn’t really make your situation any easier. I was lost because I used to use landmarks as my directions, I was anxious because as much as I know and believe it will all be rebuilt-it’s not going to be easy, and it’s going to be long.
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I was sad the first day of break. But I let myself be sad.
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I have always been around parents who live their life with an optimistic nature-realists-but I have learned from them that situations, no matter how bad, can always have a positive outcome, there is joy in life, a lot of it. When bad things happen-it is not a personal attack from the universe, as my mom always says: shit happens.
Part of my struggle with coming back to LA is being around my family. As much as they are strong and persistent, there also seems to be a darker cloud that hangs over them. They seem a bit more tired, a bit more stressed, a bit less optimistic, a bit more sad. I have noticed this in my other relatives too who have also been displaced due to fire damage.
Everyone seems a bit depressed.
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On a Saturday afternoon I peeked into my parents bedroom, my mom lay on my dad’s shoulder with his arm wrapped around her. Both of their eyes were closed. They napped peacefully.
Sometimes I wonder how they are able to carry on with three kids in all different stages of life, both of them working, two pets, and dealing with a lost house and town. How are they able to do it. To keep going, and to keep showing up in their strongest suits every day?
I closed the door slowly and let them rest.
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This piece isn’t a woe as me or pity for my family. Life is hard for everyone in different ways. Every struggle is valid.
When I’m in a restaurant I tend to watch the surrounding parties while eating dinner. I love watching the group of two girls and a guy gossip with their drinks, the two men hug before they sit down, and the obviously very drunk couple laugh in their embrace. It brings me comfort knowing that I know nothing about people. Is the group of three co-workers? Are the two men life long friends that are meeting up after a long break? Is the couple married or on their first date? Was their day hard or amazing? Do they live far or near? Where did they come from?
I don’t know-but in my head I create stories, and it makes me think how many vignettes exist around us.
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I’ve enjoyed being in a new neighborhood, I’ve been walking in a new area of Pasadena that brings me great joy.
I’m 15 minutes away from Erewhon.
I have cooked amazing meals.
I have spent time with my family.
I have seen my friends.
I love my dog and cat!
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Onwards and downwards.
Onwards and straightwards.
Onwards and upwards.
Onwards!
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