I've been imagining, as I listen to news about the fires ravaging Alberta right now, about the families. And that perennial question: when you are told to flee, what do you take with you? What gets left behind, forsaken?
Beyond your people, beyond your pets, I mean, what do you reach for when you have to go - RIGHT NOW - and the future of your home hangs in the balance, unknown? Will you have a home to go back to...?
As questions go, this one is a fresh mosquito bite that in spite of yourself, even though you know better, you can't stop scratching.
"We didn't realize how serious it was until we went out to the parking lot and the sky was orange." Images of the orange sky have burned into the memory of many Canadians this week.
And here I find myself wondering what I would do faced with that awful question, knowing any answer I could possibly come up with would fall short, wanting.
I'm not typically a sentimental person. I don't own any jewelry or original works of art. So much of what I own - TVs, computers, sofas, linens - would go up in smoke in a heartbeat, and I wouldn't mourn the loss too greatly (although, in my way I suppose I put some degree of thought and care into selecting those items).
But the fact is, so much of what we have is material and immaterial at the same time.
Some sensible people would reach for their passports and other important documents kept in safes. I am not a sensible person, I'll admit as much. Rarely am I ruled by a cooled head. My photographs aren't neatly contained in a hard drive I can scoop up and take with me. So many albums I couldn't possibly cart them under my arms... I've always preferred to hold my son's baby pictures in my hands, ditto to the books on my shelves dating back to my school days.
So much of what is prized in my life is not so much what's in my house, but in the actual bones of it. The four walls, the space and the physical feeling of the bricks and mortar itself. The difference between a house and a home.
I guess that atmosphere could be recreated wherever my family goes. And we have uprooted before, by choice.
What is happening to the families in Alberta is different.
The effects of an evacuation, or so I imagine, will leave a gaping hole in the lives of these residents.
The loss will ripple out in concentric circles for years to come. I pray that these families find the strength to heal.
Home is so much more than the roof over your head. It's more than just a shell where you go to rest your head at night. Home is a feeling, an energy you create. On some level that energy gets absorbed into the walls, into the very fabric of the building.
Consider the emotional attachment you feel for your childhood home... If I close my eyes, I can vividly remember so much about the apartment I grew up in. It's a connection I want my son to feel for our current home. I would hate for us to have to leave it before we're ready, before he's ready...
There is no right answer to the question. No matter what you take, so much is left behind.
Please help those affected by the wildfires in any way you can.
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