“Are you OK?” is the text I’ve received every day for the last week. And the answer is complicated. Yes, I’m OK in the sense that while I live in Los Angeles, my family and house are safe from the wildfires.
But also, I’m absolutely not OK.
I moved to Los Angeles 16 years ago as an aspiring writer. I lived in West Hollywood, which is where I met my husband. Eventually, we moved to the sleepy suburbs of Burbank, where we’ve been raising our two daughters.
Moving to the suburbs, for me, meant a sense of security for our family. The roads here are wide, the trees are ancient and enormous, and the schools are top-notch. We’re surrounded by other families and local businesses we love. I recently texted a friend, “This feels like our forever home.”
The Palisades and Eaton fires, though, have changed not only LA itself, but how I see our future in this city
Last week, my husband and I packed up a suitcase with clothes, birth certificates, and our marriage license as intense winds knocked over those mighty trees on our street. We buckled our daughters into their car seats as ash fell from the sky. We drove out of LA under enormous plumes of smoke to find better air quality. And days later, when the Palisades fire moved East, we could see the glowing flames in the distance, just behind our house.
Like everyone else, I don’t know when the LA fires will be contained. What I know is that many of my friends have lost all of their possessions and sense of safety. What I know is that while we are safe, my daughters can’t go outside because of the air quality. What I know is that I’m not the only parent in LA right now trying to both process the heartbreak of all this and maintain life as usual for my kids.
I also know that I don’t want to do this again
I don’t want to live every year wondering if the fires will start closer to our house. What if the home we worked so hard to have goes up in flames? Or worse, what if we can’t get out in time?
Los Angeles is where I began my career as a novelist. My first two books are set in Hollywood. My husband has been lucky enough to be a TV writer for shows that film here in Los Angeles. Our community and work is here.
My husband has nervously laughed off my questions of, “Should we stay in LA?” and “No, really, are we staying?”
But to ease my anxiety, I’ve started looking at listings in North Carolina — not because I’m from there, but because my best friend lives there. Maybe that could be fun?
But then the practical part kicks in. How would we be able to make a living? There are no TV writers rooms, and I’d have to hope that I got a full-time job that could make enough money for all of us. The idea of moving our family somewhere else is currently very tempting, but financially maybe impossible.
And on top of that, I can’t imagine another place in the world I’d want to live. I love Los Angeles. My kids love that we can drive to the beach and swim in our backyard pool in the summer. This is our home.
As I made my daughter’s bed this morning, I silently said a prayer of thanks for the life we have. I imagine each day will be something like that — both gratitude that we were spared, and the small knowledge that we were very close to losing everything. But next time — if and when there is one — will my family be as lucky as we have been?
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