fear

It was surreal. I've never known a more appropriate time to use such a word but last week was definitely surreal like a horrible Armageddon movie. As the week went on I wanted so badly to remember every little detail and thought that raced through my mind, but I couldn't and it was just exhausting.
Sunday afternoon we were driving back from our visit to Houston. It was probably around 3pm. When we were on I-10 we noticed a lot of smoke and instantly knew there must be an ugly grass fire somewhere. We traveled on. As we approached Smithville, we saw a lot of smoke coming from the direction of 21. Matt instantly knew that it was going to turn into something terrible. He had mentioned time and time again that a fire in the pines with layers and layers of dry pine needles on the ground and dry pine trees all around would one day spell catastrophe for our little town. As we approached the intersection of Tahitian Drive and 71, Matt had to come to a screeching halt as fire trucks came at us and headed where we had just come from. The fire was about to cross south over 71 and we had just missed it.
The week was full of ups and downs. We were blessed to not have to evacuate and not have to fear the worst but I couldn't help but worry for my family, my friends, my town. Evacuate, come home, evacuate, come home. Contained, not contained. 300 homes lost, 600, 700, 1400 homes destroyed.

From our house you could see the black smoke by 21 and 95.
From our house you could hear and see the Blackhawks and planes flying by, so low you'd think you could touch them.
From our house you could smell the smoke that filled the air and it wasn't safe to leave the house.
In front of every other house and in each parking lot in town there is an RV parked indefinitely until a family finds a home.
From my house I worried about Matt and that he may end up in a dangerous situation trying to help someone else.
In our town, there is a little city of tents and RVs from all the insurance companies filing claims for people.
In our town, there are hundreds of firefighters all over the place eating, resting, buying essentials.

Pets have died. Houses have vanished. Our teachers and the children I see day in and day out have lost their homes. The waitress at the restaurant, the walmart employee. It gives you a whole new perspective on the word homeless. Insurance or no insurances, renters or owners, it doesn't matter, they are now homeless. Can you even picture 1400 homes? I can't. Out of no where I'd remember one more person to add to the list of people I needed to check up on and even today, 7 days later, friends are still just finding out if there home is still standing.
I saw 5 green Forest Service trucks drive by full of firefighters and all i could do was cry. I cried because they reminded me of soldiers going in to fight a war, fighting for us and they didn't even know us. I cried when i found out Janet's house was spared because the stress of thinking it was gone for days before that was just too much to bare. There are moments in your life that really break your heart. I know for all of us September 11th will forever be one of those moments. For our little town of Bastrop and the town of Smithville, September 4th will also be one of those moments. I was blessed. Blessed that my little family was safe and unaffected but I hurt for every one else. I hurt for the dozen of friends and family that I know are stricken with sadness and fear of having to rebuild their home all over. I have never been more afraid and sad. Never.