stacy marie

I woke up this morning and opened the front door to let Lucky back in the house. Being used to smelling cool salty air, I was a little surprised to smell the same smoky air I remember from the 2003 Cedar Fire. Always the optimist, I figured it was probably just a nearby grass fire or a neighbor’s burnt toast and turned on my favorite morning radio program, The Mikey Show. None of the usual potty jokes or celebrity gossip — instead, talk of major fires burning throughout San Diego. Not a good sign. The TV confirmed my feelings of deja vu: There were 8 fires burning throughout the county.

The orange sky and non-stop news coverage brought back some pretty scary memories from 2003. I was barely a junior in college and still didn’t know much San Diego geography, so a fire burning anywhere in San Diego (although tens of miles away) seemed like it was right in our backyard. My friend Aubrey, who lived further east than me and closer to the fire, voluntarily evacuated to my apartment near SDSU. We both worked at a hotel near the coast, so leaving our house and heading to the hotel seemed like the logical thing to do. We covered our mouths and noses with scarves, packed up our belongings (including my pet rabbit at the time, Mocha), and headed for the beach. We sat in our hotel room, glued to the TV in anticipation of the worst imaginable news. In hindsight, we probably overreacted a bit, because the fire never came close. But when ash from peoples’ burnt homes is falling from the sky outside your front door, it’s hard to feel so far removed.

Fortunately, I now live at the beach, which is probably the safest place to be. Except the fire is still moving west, so I won’t be so quick to assume I’ll be unaffected. I’ll admit it does feel good to know my surroundings a little better and at least have some way to gauge where the fires are in relation to, well, me.

I’m just wondering how things will ever get better in this city with all of these terrible disasters.