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2020-09-09
Skating Under A Sunless Sunset
September 9th, 2020. The first day in years where I wake up and I am terrified by what I see: the world outside my window is drenched in orange light. I blink multiple times and bolt up, making sure I am not dreaming and that I am in complete control of my faculties. I sit in my room, stunned, for a few moments, then go about my day as usual. I peek my head outside for a moment, and smell nothing in the air. None of the smoke that had been plaguing our noses for the past few days was permitted among the copper splendor. My whole morning, I am terrified of what this could potentially mean: that the fire was close. That we could be in danger. This leaves a bad taste in my mouth for the morning. After class, I go about my normal after-school activities, gaming on my computer and playing on the guitar. At about 6 in the evening, I decide to myself “screw it.” I pick up my board, put my earbuds in, and get out of the house. The orange is dimmer, but still terrifyingly beautiful to look at. I skate around, listening to my favorite music as I observe the neighborhood around me, the same shapes with different meanings now. I dare not to pull out my phone to ruin this moment, knowing a photograph or video from it will ruin the moment for me. I stop along Mangos Drive and just sit on the curb, board behind my feet, and I stare up, hearing only my music and the occasional car passing by. A true calm, I was in, one I hadn’t been in in a long time. And so I sat there, knowing where the sun sets, but seeing no sun. I knew when it did set, but not through sight. Through feeling. The lukewarm day turned colder, the orange dimmed to a vibrant brown, and I felt phenomenal. I skated back home, not caring to check how long I’d been gone, knowing it was well worth it however much time I spent out there. I snapped out of it, and continued with the things I had been doing before, playing games and the guitar. Not once, that whole day, did I smell or taste smoke. And I am grateful for it. -
2020-09-09
I Stood Beneath An Orange Sky
Amidst the COVID-19 pandemic, August 2020 brought devastating wildfires to the state of California. Many of the Northern California fires were started as a result of the lightning produced during a massive - and rare - summer thunderstorm. The week leading up to the storm, I questioned the reliability of weather information as I had never experienced a severe summer storm in California. The night of the storm, I lay awake in my bed in awe of the sound of the storm. The combination of wind, rain, thunder and lighting produced incredibly loud sounds that lasted throughout the night. My family stayed snug in our beds. But when the storm continued into the morning hours, we decided to sit on our porch to take in the moment. The smell of rain in the summer was oddly refreshing. My kids were jumpy as none of them remember ever hearing thunder before. During a pause in the rain, we were walking between our home and my in-law’s home about 500 yards away from ours. The thunder hit at that very moment. I turned to look at my son and he was completely jumping out of his skin from fear of the thunder. Following each bout of thunder, silent lighting bolts shot across the sky. In the moment, we soaked in the beauty of nature. Little did we know that these beautiful bolts of lightning would cause some of the largest fires in California history. Immediately following the storm, fires spread across the state of California. While COVID-19 has completely changed life as we know it, we have found joy in being able to enjoy the outdoors. At the onset of the fires, even that reprieve was taken from us. I live directly between the SCU Lightning Complex and the LNU Lighting Complex fires, two of the first fires that erupted following the storm. The days immediately following the start of the fires brought record breaking days of heat well over 100 degrees. The hottest I have ever experienced in the San Francisco Bay Area. The region experienced rolling blackouts and even functioning air conditioners were so taxed that they struggled to keep the insides of homes cool. In addition to the heat, the skies were filled with ash. The air was so thick with ash it was difficult to even take a breath when outside. The outdoors, our place of solace, quiet and escape during this pandemic, was no longer an option for us. On September 9, 2020, I woke up and opened my curtains to face a brilliant orange sky. The color of the sky was unlike anything I've ever seen in my life. It truly felt apocalyptic. The air smelled of an extinguished campfire. And the overall feeling was eerie. The weight of the COVID-19 pandemic hit me the day that I stood beneath an orange sky, breathing in the smell of the fires ravaging my beloved state. How did we get here? Will life ever feel normal again? It just can’t get worse, can it? While I stood frozen in place, I heard the sound of birds chirping in the distance. This simple sound gave me the reassurance that I needed. We can do hard things. This too shall pass. I just hope it passes quickly. -
2020-09-09
Smoke over the Pacific Northwest
Flying from Portland to San Francisco on September 9th, the skies below were visibly smoky. It was hard to distinguish normal fog from smoke from the fires, but two huge plumes of smoke can be seen in the time-lapse. The air smelled like smoke when I took off from Portland, but was much worse in San Francisco- the sky was orange and visibility was greatly reduced.