When Fires Burn

I’d like to think my respect for Mother Nature and Providence is healthy.  What I know for sure is that as I’ve lived and breathed and experienced my life, this respect has only grown.

In recent months and days, fire has abruptly changed the lives of many in the Western United States and is on the minds of even more.  I myself have been feeling its burn pretty intensely in recent days, though by no means in the way so many have been directly impacted.

See, there’s this ex-boyfriend.  I’ll call him Joe.  I ended the relationship and moved out in October of 2009, four months after my father’s death after a long-term illness (interesting, I know).  Our five years together was an emotionally intense roller coaster ride due to several factors, two of which were alcohol addiction and depression.  And while I come with my own baggage, these happened to be his carry-ons.

One of the few highlights of the relationship was Harbin Hot Springs in Middletown, Lake County, California, which we visited frequently over a four-year period.  Words really can’t describe the wonder of this place.  But those who have experienced it understand.  And this blog post is not about Harbin, after all.  At least not directly.

We both moved on, each embarking on new relationships.  There was an attempt at friendship, if that’s what you call it with an ex with whom you endured a lot of emotional pain.

In May of 2012, within a week’s time, Joe’s apartment burned (the one he and I had shared) and he received a prostate cancer diagnosis.  These events prompted him to move to Middletown, near Harbin, which was something he had been talking about wanting to do for years.  Providence works in mysterious ways.   

He established a stable life for himself with a disability income, good medical treatment in nearby St. Helena, his girlfriend, and their dog and cat.  I was his apartment referral.

A week ago, three years after Joe’s arrival to Middletown, the Lake County Fire changed all that.

And that’s when the fire began to lick my heels.

While he got out safely with his girlfriend and their animals, they lost everything except the papers and his car that they drove out in.  Her car burned.  And Harbin burned.

The girlfriend turned him out within two days of reaching a safe haven at her gal friend’s place in Sonoma County.  He landed at the Napa Valley Fairgrounds in Calistoga with many of the other evacuees.

He’s reached out.  I offered money.  I asked my family and a friend to contribute as well.  But he expects something else – he calls it friendship; I don’t -- which is impossible for me to give.  His increasingly emotional and vitriolic entreaties have made my stomach turn.  Guilt and anger oozed from my old wounds breaking open. 

I won’t burden or bore you with the details of the text exchanges, but they aren’t pretty.  But what I will say is that the qualities that prompted me to leave Joe are on stunning – and understandable – display during this time.   

This morning he texted me to never contact him again, which I haven’t done all along.  He’s contacted me, and I’ve responded.

I am making a deposit to his account today, unfriending him on Facebook, and will move on with an even greater respect for Mother Nature and Providence.

Why did I share this story, so raw and recent and personal?   Because I just can’t carry it alone anymore.  Thank you for reading.