Four years ago, the Angora fire devastated South Lake Tahoe. Homes were destroyed, lives forever changed, glorious pine trees torched. And although we never had to evacuate, the possibility was still eerily close -- as was the decision on what to bring. What to leave. In hindsight, it's ridiculously simple: take photos and birth certificates, passports and hard drives. Leave: everything else.
And then. Just a few days ago, another fire, this time only about a quarter mile from our house, just up the sage-brush covered hill. Right off the path we hike, run and trot the dogs. Initially we knew nothing. Eventually we knew we were OK. Our local fire-fighting heroes had it under control before even a few acres had burned.
Interestingly this time we were ready. And in addition to the government-issued paperwork that is too complicated to replace, I stashed extra diapers and wipes in my purse. Because seriously. Who wants to be left with a messy two-year-old in the middle of complete chaos.
And now. Less than a week later, at Curtis's soccer game, watching him run and kick and score. Laughing, high-five-ing and so clearly in his element. Little brother imitating from the sidelines, trying, oh-so-trying, to be just like his almost-five-year idol. That's when you realize that even the little bitty pieces of paper nestled in the safe are frivolous.
That all that matters are those you love.
Perspective, full circle.