Where the Hummingbirds Were

When we shut the door, the Nest doorbell recorded me saying “I hope the house is here when we return”. The house survived the fire, but I am not sure my home did.

Things are odd. The inside feels cold without the heating to keep it at ambient temperature. The glass of orange juice I had been drinking when we left, still on the coffee table, bloomed with surface mold. Last year's Christmas cards remain, covered in ash. Everything smells of burning trash and the water in the toilet bowls is evaporating.

The patio has desiccating branches strewn all over, some from trees we don’t have nearby. The hummingbird feeders are empty. The hills are bald, there is no burn scar. The view south is bleak. The afternoon light is odd because the sun sets much lower now the houses are gone. I don't know if I can face this day after day.

I worry that when the utilities are reconnected, and the house is clean, I still won't feel safe. What about mudslides, what about other fires, Will the neighbors rebuild? Will the hummingbirds return? Will I always get the icy feeling in my gut whenever the Santa Ana winds howl over the foothills or woodsmoke drifts from someone grilling?