I’ve been watching news coverage of the California wildfires and am feeling moved by those affected by them. I can relate to the people who lost their homes.
In 2022, my apartment — a former chalet at a ski resort in the Upper Peninsula — burned. I didn’t lose anything (including my cat) because I lived at the other end of the building, but my apartment mates at the source of the electrical fire were left with almost nothing but a black, charred husk.
When the fire was extinguished and we got the all-clear, I went inside with a firefighter. We moved as many of my things as we could out of the building and into my SUV. Over the next few days, we met with the American Red Cross several times. I couch-surfed for a week and a half, thanks to the generosity of friends and neighbors, before my new living arrangements were in place.
