Then, having planned my escape and now (almost implausibly) with
time on my hands,
I
sat
back down at my table, gazing through the
window
at a ten mile orange curtain of flame
dancing
on the top of the ridge a few miles in front of me,
completed
the
essay
I was
writing
("Final Release" which
distinguishes integrity's impact on performance),
sent out its announcement by
e‑mail
to two
thousand
people or so
worldwide
(internet
service
worked
although my cell phone's connectivity had gone AWOL)
then went for
walk
in the cattle pasture to
get
a closer
look,
having tied a damp bandana over my nose and
mouth.
It was around 12:45am in the morning of Monday October 9, 2017.
As I search for the
words
to try to describe what I saw (all of which suddenly seem so
inadequate), "surreal" doesn't even come close (I later overheard a
man say "It's too late to repent: this is hell!" - which said it
all, at least visually). I don't often
talk to God.
But when I do, it's pretty
authentic.
The thing that was
causing
the fire to spread so rapidly and wreaking so much havoc, is it was
by now a very windy night. Gusts were blowing at around forty five
miles an hour in the
Napa Valley,
and at around seventy miles an hour in the adjacent Sonoma Valley.
At that
point
I just stood
out-here
alone ie by ... my ...
Self
in the cattle pasture and, with ash falling down like
snowflakes
on my shoulders, bowed my head, and closed my stinging,
watering
eyes.
What
I said to God
(what I whispered nakedly to
God,
actually) was "Please
stop
... just
stop
...". It was like I was
listening
my own
words
speaking
themselves. They were referring to the gusts. By now, it was quite
plain what we needed was a
shift
in the wind.
I won't give you my riveting
news
footage here. You've already seen it on TV. What I'll venture for
you from my own
personal
experience
however, is there's a
moment
in any episode like this when you
get
to
choose
who you're going to be,
regardless of the
circumstances.
Help isn't on
the way.
The cavalry's not
coming.
Mummy
and
Daddy
can't make it all better now. You're on ... your ... own. I
watched
the local TV station for updated information. They said "2:00am:
zero percent containment", then "5:00am: zero percent containment",
then "1:00pm: zero percent containment", then twenty four hours
later: "zero percent containment". A
friend
e-mailed
me: "I can't
believe
this is
happening.".
I
e-mailed
back:
"Believe
it. It's
happening.".
|