Opening my eyes

My father calls us refugees. He is joking - staying at the hotel by Buffalo Thunder and taking evening walks around Santa Fe are certainly not fixtures in the average refugee's life. But the one thing I believe we share with those living refugee camps and shelters is a yearning to return home.

It was tough getting us leave. When the Las Conchas fire smeared Los Alamos in gray, sooty haze and a mandatory evacuation sent a long line of traffic out of town, my parents and I sat in their living room. We watched TV and read reports on the Internet. We wouldn't leave, we reasoned, until it was absolutely necessary. As the night got darker and the sirens became louder, it became apparent that the absolutely necessary characteristic had appeared.

The cars were loaded with photo albums, envelopes stuffed with different papers and my parents' dog, Sam. The streets were empty but as we approached the main exit to Los Alamos, a cluster of National Guardsmen stood watch and traffic cones guided us out of town.

Just where we were going was still in question. We stopped at a gas station in Pojoaque to discuss and ending up driving to the Homewood Suites nearby Buffalo Thunder. The room reminds me of the studio apartment I lived in when I first moved to Los Alamos. Only the hotel room is ten times better. The kitchen has a granite countertop and a dishwasher, and the bathroom is huge.

Still, sitting at the small wooden kitchen table I miss my apartment. I miss the stainless steel countertop and laminate backsplash. I miss listening to the squeal of brakes as trucks back into loading dock at Smith's from my bedroom window.

Trying to pass the time has been another challenge.

Before the fire erupted, the days moved swiftly. My whole family was on the go. We were in constant motion, doing one thing or another. But when the fire raced in all directions, we were stuck in our tracks. Trying to fill up the time has become our full-time jobs. It is even worse for my poor sister and her husband who, in addition to keeping themselves busy, need to keep three little kids occupied.

Sure, being made to halt has its disadvantages but there are positives, too. Staying in one place makes you observe more - you see the incredible work a thousand firefighters have achieved along with countless others. You are exposed to amazing goodwill of fellow residents and their dedication to help out. Standing still has allowed me to realize there is so much good exists. The only thing I am left to wonder about is why it took a giant wildfire for me to recognize this fact.  



photo by Ray Laskey