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January 2025

Moon Fire, Evacuating Under It's Light

I remember the moon.  It was nearly full… just seven days from the Wolf Moon.  We were without power so there were no street lights, no lighted windows, just darkness with an orange glow over the distant horizon to the east.

I remember the wind.  It had blown hard the night before and all through the day.  It had strewn my patio furniture about, along with three umbrellas and it had lifted the class tabletop off of one of the tables.  That glass tabletop landed on the cement patio without a crack.  The wind bent my chainlink gate and the pole that held it in place so low that the locked gate swung open.

Chelsea, my daughter, called me around 5:30 to tell me there was a fire in Eaton Canyon.  I had no way of knowing.  There was no power and no internet.  I had only a cheap flip phone for calls only.

My grandson, Dalton, had been living with me for a little over a year.  He had gone to work at a restaurant in Altadena, Alta Eats.

Chelsea called about 15 minutes later to say that people were being evacuated east of Allen Avenue.  That was where Dalton worked.  She said she would call him.

Because I am blind and do not drive, Chelsea was concerned about me getting out if necessary.  She lives on the west side of LA, on the edge of Santa Monica.

Dalton called to say the restaurant was closing and he would be home soon.  While I waited for him, Chelsea called again to say that everyone east of Lake Avenue was being evacuated.  We were just a block and four houses west of Lake.

A few neighbors came by to see if I needed a ride.  I assured them I would be okay, that Dalton was on his way home.

I threw a few things into my purse, prescriptions, toothbrush, a change of underwear and socks.  I really wasn’t sure if we needed to leave.  After all, Eaton Canyon was a long way away.

It took Dalton longer than usual to get home due to heavy winds, downed branches, stop lights being without power and panicked drivers.

When he reached home we had no cell power.  He put a few things together and we decided we were ready to go.  He walked over to Lake Avenue to ask the firemen if we needed to leave, as we had not received an evacuation notice and now there was no cell power.

The firemen said to be ready but we did not need to leave yet.

When Dalton got home the orange glow in the sky to the east of us was brighter.  He said, “Gramma, we don’t have to wait until someone tells us to go.”

I agreed with him and suggested sooner would be better as the traffic would only thicken and we sure did not want to get trapped.

All this time we were still in disbelief that we were really going to evacuate.  I grew up in Altadena and I was about to turn 80.  Never in my life had I ever had to evacuate.  We had been through some terrible fires but had always managed to be safe.

While we were certain to return in the morning, we did decide to leave.  Dalton’s car was backed into the driveway so that he could just pull out and go.  We locked the door.

Something inside me told me to turn and look at my beautiful home of 51 years.  It was as though some part of me knew I would never see it again.

I turned to look at my beautiful home in the moonlight.  The pristine white railings around the front porch and down each side of the stairs had just been repaired and repainted.  The door with its lovely wreath looked almost magical.  The trees in front and the shrubs and the sturdy little birdhouse library at the curb all looked wonderful to me.

As we drove off to Chelsea’s home in West LA, Dalton and I talked about what time we might get back in the morning.  We had plumbers coming to do some repiping.  We figured we could not get back here before they would arrive in the morning.  We would call them first thing in the morning to let them know we would be late.

The moon followed us… or so it seemed.  When we got out of the car on Bentley Avenue, the moon was glowing through the palm fronds.  There were street lights on but the moonlight was still brilliant.