On Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday I pretty much spent the days with the tv tuned into news channels, and my phone turned on to a scanner app so I could listen to where they were fighting the fires. And for the first few days, my dad's home was safe. Until Tuesday, when the fire crews spent all day and all night fighting to save the houses in my dad's little area. My dad and I listened to them right in front of his house, and they did a commendable job!
But then, on Thursday, the fire flared back up, and the results were disasterous:
|His vineyard in the background on the left- it's still standing!|
This is my dad's house.
And unfortunately, the fire was so hot and spread so fast, jumping over some places and burning others, that flare ups keep happening, and the wind keeps changing and sending the fire back through places it left untouched before. It's like every day the fire looks back and says, "Oops! Missed a spot!"
Yesterday my dad was interviewed for the Denver Post, you can view the article here. And that picture? That's my dad and his girlfriend Georgie.
On Sunday, when my sister visited him for Father's Day, smoke from the fire was so bad in Ft.Collins that they had to leave early, and snapped pictures from the highway of new flare ups:
And the fire is still going.
My dad says that knowing what happened to his home is the only thing that has calmed him down and made it easier to deal with the past week.
But when we talk, it's memories we talk of, remembering visits and horseshoe games, hiking and seeing friends. My dad has lived up in that area for almost 30 years, and it's now gone.
As my dad says every time one of us brings up some trinket or photo or keepsake, "Burned".
"Remember that wolf quilt I made?" "Burned" " Aw, and the records?" "Burned"
Now all that stuff is just memories until all of us who remember are gone, then, burned.
Remember, it's just a ride. (and a wild one at that)