This is the front of my home on Friday morning, January 14th, 2022. My door is at the end of that middle sidewalk. I woke up to my neighbor’s smoke alarms going off. Since mine are super sensitive, I wasn’t sure what was going on at first but as I headed downstairs to check it out, I started smelling smoke. I frantically collected my two cats and threw on shoes and a jacket over my pajamas and ran outside. To temps in the teens and snow on the ground. And thick black smoke rolling out of my neighbor’s windows.

My unit has extensive smoke damage as well as water damage. I’m forever indebted to amazing firewalls as I was literally surrounded on two sides by fire and I have no actual fire damage. My neighbor’s unit where the fire started is utterly destroyed.

I’m so grateful I got out and that my cats are okay. I’m so grateful that no one was physically hurt. I’m so grateful that the entire building didn’t burn up.

And yet …. my cats and I are in a hotel now and we don’t know for how long. A couple months at least.

And yet …. 7 units including the one where the fire started have been impacted, ranging in severity. 7 families displaced. 7 households traumatized.

And yet … I’m still coughing from smoke inhalation a week later.

And yet …. I constantly think I’m smelling smoke. I’m on edge, all the time. I replay the moments of realizing there’s a fire and the “what ifs” had I not been able to get my cats out, the “what ifs” had the firewalls not done their job.

And yet … I’m out of work while I find my footing as I work from home. I started a private practice counseling business a year and a half ago. I have a dedicated home office that is now unusable.

And yet … everything I own smells like smoke. Clothes, couch, towels, bedding, furniture, books, all my craft supplies, dishes, pillows, etc, etc. A quilt my grandmother made before I was born. A crocheted blanket my cousin gave me for my birthday last year. A teddy bear my dad gave me when I was a child. New sweaters I just received for Christmas. Photos and scrapbooks from the last 20 years. It all smells like smoke.

It’s going to be a long process to come back from this.

The restoration company is hopeful they can salvage some of my personal things, for which I’m grateful and trying to hold on to their optimism. But so much is a loss.

My brand-new couch that I bought just last summer. My mattress. All my bathroom/hygiene stuff/makeup. All my food. Small appliances. Anything plastic. Including the many new kitchen utensils that I just got for Christmas from my stepdad who is a great cook and helping me upgrade my cooking game. Things you don’t even think of having to replace – plastic hangers, plastic laundry basket. Fabric bins that hold my various belongings. Bookcases. My board game collection. My new adorable llama shower curtain. All my cats’ stuff – beds, tunnels, toys, cat trees, food bowls, water fountains, the second cat carrier that was left in the laundry room that had black smoke rolling in from the furnace when I just grabbed the one carrier to scoop them both into.

It’s such a weird surreal situation. My stuff was spared the fire. I can see and touch all my things. Everything looks fine. But it’s as good as gone. This week I’ve had to start sorting my belongings into piles of what to try to clean and what to claim as loss. I have to inventory every item I own. Next week I’ll be tossing my stuff into a dumpster. It’s excruciating. Because it’s not “just stuff”. It’s my life.

It’s because I just moved here in September. FOUR MONTHS AGO. I’ve spent the last 4 months gathering and buying items I want and need for my new place. I’ve spent the last 4 months decorating and organizing. I’ve spent the last 4 months making it home. I’ve worked so hard to get here, building my new business and making my new home and it’s all destroyed. I know I can rebuild, and I will, but starting over now, after having finally gotten to such a good place, is devastating and discouraging. I had what I wanted, what I’ve dreamed of for years, for the last 4 months and felt really good and settled and happy and HOME in the last month especially.

I was looking forward to this new year, to another solid year with my private practice, starting to actually save money, starting to invest and build up retirement (having worked in non-profit most of my career this is next to non-existent), being able to plan for travel and adventures, and building up my community of friends, neighbors, and colleagues, spending time relaxing on my new reclining couch watching my favorite shows on my new big screen tv and cuddling with my cats, inviting friends over to my new place for dinner and game nights.

I have been blown away by the moments of kindness and support, moments of laughter and relief in the midst of the trauma and grief of this last week. I know there is still good. I know I will recover. And I know I can’t do that without help, without community, without family and friends. Thank you for contributing to my recovery however you are able. I am, and will forever be, grateful for this support.