I don’t know how to write about the fire

So...I won’t. 

Not yet, anyway. 

I can totally talk about it. 

(Talking has never been my problem.😉)

But even with talking, there will never be enough words to cover all the ground that the fire has touched. 

I also don’t know how to write about anything that’s happened since the fire without first acknowledging here that it happened. 

So here is a post to claim the space that it needs. We’re still engulfed in its devastation, but finding little pockets that were not left untouched, but offer enough normal for us to breathe again.  Some of us are sleeping normally again, some of us are emotionally paralyzed, some are singed and angry, some are weepy, some carry on as if nothing changed, some are still searching for the why, some want a break, some are buffering and avoiding reality. Lots of gratitude. Lots of grief. Lots of hope.  Lots of ambivalence trying to understand and navigate the new part that’s been created for us, for our family culture, for the roles we’re called to play.  

Winter break sort of feels like it’s 2 minutes to curtain and we’re rushing around to take our places. We all still know our lines, but no one knows where we’re supposed to be. What act is this? What PLAY is this? Do I even belong in this show?  

Fortunately, everyone we love is right here behind the curtain with us, like stage hands making sure we’re clothed and have our props and have been fed, pushing us out on stage, because despite our resistance and misunderstanding and not recollecting a rehearsal for ANY of this, the show must go on.

So now we’re live and bumbling around and doing our best. I circle back to the fire. I wouldn’t say it “deserves” its own post, but it certainly is claiming one.  But my hope is that now that I’ve given the fire a space, I will find my own space and at least keep up with our digital family journal keeping.