Effing Godzilla Wind Breath

When the winds whipped up somewhat unexpectedly on Thursday morning, we were thinking “GD finally – SNOW!” We usually get a warning, but this one showed up like greased lightning.  Winter storms here usually blow in from the west like an ass on fire. This time, it shot out from the other end like a damn Godzilla breathing fire. Or would be soon. 

Where we live is like a cuckoo clock valley of shitstorm. And when that little birdie shoots out, it’s never on time and it always shoots out like a cannon. And since I’ve now officially twisted you in up metaphors, I’m going to pause that noise to say what I actually mean… that some of the winds clocked by the National Center for Atmospheric Research (which is also, interestingly enough, in my hood) are strongest near or within a mile of two of our house IN THE STATE.

So. We’re all home. A day off of work (hahahahahahahaha – yea, right). I attempt a bike ride on the stupid expensive indoor studio bike we bought during the pandemic. And about 17 minutes into my ride on the coast of Maui, the power shuts off. Fuck. I head upstairs in defeat and think that maybe we have some kettle chips somewhere.

But by then, the winds are freaking us the fuck out. A limb lands on the roof with a loud crack then thump then rumblerumblerumble as it blows right off. I talk to my mom and she’s like “Seriously? That howl noise?’ Yea. That.

My Poppy-formerly-known-as-step-dad texts and says, “Well, you lived through Hurricane Hugo. Maybe just try going to sleep like I did.” I seriously consider it for a hot minute. But then I find the potato chips in a bin in the new mudroom.

I keep looking out of the window and yelling to Kenny: “The chairs! The flower pot! The neighbors’ chairs! The neighbor Jane!” And he keeps running out to save stuff plus a close-to-blowing-away-70-something. Though in retrospect, he should’ve been wearing a helmet.

Then I’m like: “KENNY! My SHED!” The glass in the front two French doors of my new nest and favorite space in life had just shattered like my dreams of becoming a famous writer. And, yes, I’d been planning to write the PULITZER WINNER there. So.

Then at some point around 11? Something or someone (so much social media in our house – GAH) alerts us to the smoke due east. Sella says, “Mom! There are flames.” So we all gather at the new, not shattered door facing east in the mudroom. And I’ll be damned. So I jump in the shower.

Sella says, “Mom?”

From the shower I starting yelling for Kenny to grab shit. Not my finest moment. But if you’ve ever read any of my previous disaster-related blogs, you won’t be super surprised.

The texts from the neighborhood group chat start filing in: 

The people who are smart: WE ARE PACKING

The people who know shit: WE ALREADY LEFT

The people who are showering because they don’t want to go to the evacuation shelter with dirty hair: SHOULD WE GRAB SOME WINE

Suffice it to say, I am not the best in the moment. Then I read the WE ALREADY LEFT text and yell PACK A BAG NOW. Kenny shoots his finger into my face from across the kitchen bar and says (with gritted-teeth-tight-jawed-I-will-cutta-bitch-seriousness), “youneedtostopNOW.” And it calmed me right down.

Ha! Not really.. .but wouldn’t that have been a good story?

Instead. As I’ve texted a few of you, I was like:

Grab a random bag and throw shit in it

Turn sheriff scanner app on phone up louder

Google Map that address they said just burned

Assess distance

Grab: GUCCI SHOES APPLE WATCH STRAPS PASSPORTS CHOCOLATE COVERED CHERRIES

Go sit down and make sure a work email sent

Answer text from coworker about another email needing to be sent (soooo many emails and why do they ALL have to send TODAY which is technically a day off WITHOUT the fire <facepalm>)

Back to scanner

Google Map that address they said just burned

On. Repeat. All. Damn. Day. 

And we cried.

ON. REPEAT. ALL. DAMN. DAY.

And as the hurricane coming off of the mountain continued its relentless pursuit of destruction, we waited. And watched. And our hearts broke into a million little pieces.

Sella’s friend called her begging us to leave. She was in the shower (weren’t we all?) preparing for a night out in Denver with her family when her mom yelled they had to leave. She saw their backyard fence on fire as they fled. I could hear her voice through Sella’s phone, “It comes SO FAST.” She was scared, sad, worried, devastated. Sella hung up. Burst into tears. And we booked a hotel.

As we were loading the car for the hotel, the power came back on. Sella said, “If you guys want to stay, I can suck it up.” She was visibly calmer. The wind was clearly blowing east. Snow was in the forecast. So we made a plan. 

One of us would stay up on watch and we’d take shifts. What that actually looked like?

I fell asleep on the couch after polishing off the cherries and the emergency wine. Sella climbed into my bed and watched shows until Kenny woke up at 2am and watched the Carolina game he’d missed earlier. I woke up to the shrills and beeps of the scanner app off and on all night. And no one really slept. Except for Sella after 2am and the dogs. 

Then when we woke up and watched the news, and we stood in the kitchen with our arms around each other and sobbed.

Since Thursday I haven’t stopped until tonight when I fell onto my bed and laid there in the dark staring at the ceiling. 

Since Thursday I’ve been tracking friends who lost everything. Coordinating supplies for families for There With Care as we pivoted to coordinate with local schools to provide emergency meals, toiletry bags and school supplies for affected families (as of today we are TOTALLY AND COMPLETELY FULL – OMG YOU ARE ALL AMAZING). I’ve been on con calls with work and friends to coordinate. I even worked with a stranger to help a couple who was now homeless and living out of their van in a Walmart parking lot. I shit you not. 

No. I am NOT a saint. I’ve been cursing those fucking hippies where the fire allegedly started even though nothing has been proven. I just need to rail at something/ANYTHING.

And I set up web pages, GoFundMes, Google docs to track needs vs offers. I’ve reached out to every school with a contact I know. I’ve cried over lost pets. So. Many. Lost. Pets.

I’ve cried as I’ve read each of the 1,000 stories. But I cried extra hard when tonight our friends arrived back in Boulder to a rando hotel with a kitchenette and their other friends and I tried so hard to make it feel something like home. (FAIL)

Then I cried again with my friend when he called after he went to see the hole-in-the-ground that is their former home. He said he felt nothing. Just hollow like that burned hole.

We were shopping for our friends’ hotel room today and the shelves are fucking CLEANED OUT. And on our side of town there aren’t any freaking stores left anyway.

We are down to ONE newly opened and super small Whole Foods after losing our neighborhood King Soopers to the shooting in April and now Costco, Super Target and the larger Whole Foods we frequent to the fire and extensive smoke damage. 

Lucia’s former employer (before her bold move to Texas in August), Dog Tag… well… they had to set all 40 dogs in their care plus their own dogs, donkey and horses loose in an attempt to save them as the fire blew in hellbent and with no time to spare. All have been miraculously accounted for and reunited, but… the business is in very bad shape and the property damage from the heat and smoke is extensive. 

And how fucking strange is it that this happened in an urban area. A shopping center full of people shopping at CostCo, TJ Maxx, Super Target, Chuck-E-Cheesing (whatever petrie dish shit goes on in there but still). In the middle of the DAMN DAY.

One of my BFFs had to damn DUKE BOYS to get the shit out of her house – driving her SUV across her backyard and onto the bike path to get out as the flames encroached.

This constant barrage of tragedy is life-defining. And it wasn’t until I was lying on my bed in the dark staring at the ceiling tonight that I realized. It may not be a Pulitzer in the shattered shed, but it’s showing up and the people and the love that makes me love this life and this community to my core. Floods, Gun-wielding psychos, warts, Godzilla wind breath, and all. 

#BOULDERFUCKINGSTRONG

THEME SONG: With the lights out, it’s less dangerous. Here we are now, entertain us. I feel stupid and contagious. Here we are now, entertain us. – Smells Like Teen Spirit. Nirvana