One year ago yesterday, we came back home to our house after being evacuated for over a week due to fires in our area.

Our home was safe, untouched by the fire although it had only started just four miles south. The winds just blew the fires the other way, causing devastation up to 20 miles below us instead.

When we evacuated in our two vehicles, filled to the hilt with whatever we wanted to save, I was convinced I was never going to see our home again. Coming back was almost surreal. Everything looked just as how we left it. And it was so eerily quiet. The sky was overcast, and it looked misty all around, but it was from the smoke from the fires still burning miles away.

I’ve been half-expecting for fires again this time of year. Whenever the forecast mentions dry thunderstorms, I tense up and mentally prepare for what I need to do again. Hearing about the vast fires currently burning further north in California causes me anxiety when I read about them. It is staggering!

I’ve been living in California for over 27 years now, and I don’t recall hearing about tragic fires every year. When did these start? Will it be like this from now on? They even have a name for it: fire season. But it’s more than just summer or fall.

I feel so helpless and hopeless about it. It’s like every year now, we’re gonna be sitting ducks with our fingers crossed, hoping “fire season” doesn’t come raging at us this time around.