JANUARY 9th, 2025
We drove back to Altadena on Thursday, January 9th. Most of the streets were blocked off. DMan and I parked where we could and walked a couple of miles to my block.
I felt like I was in one of those Apocalyptic movies where the whole world has been destroyed. Entire blocks had been reduced to rubble. We had to be careful where we walked because there were wires down and debris in the streets. Small fires were still burning from gas lines that hadn’t yet been turned off. Every now and then there were a couple of houses still standing, untouched. We finally got close. The cute little street that had been lined by tiny houses, just a block from my house where Kody loved to walk was completely obliterated, unrecognizable. We turned down my street. The entire block across from me was gone.
As we started down the street, a neighbor stopped me. “Wait, aren’t you the blue house?”
“Yes.”
“I am 100 percent sure your house is still standing.”
I was still shocked by what she had said, but I asked, “Yours?”
“Everything is gone.”
I burst into tears. Relief and sadness for her. We hugged and then continued down the street, walking as fast as we safely could.
Chimneys were still standing but houses were gone. My chimney was bright pink, and I thought I saw it as we got closer, connected to the roof. I kept asking DMan, “You see it, right? You see it? And it’s on a roof?”
And then we were in front of it. The houses to the right were all gone. The houses across from it were all gone. Most of the houses behind it were gone. Only two houses to the left were still standing There it was in all it’s bright blue glory. Looking almost as I had left it.
I unlocked the door and we went inside. Obviously, it smelled. Two windows had been broken by the fire department, to check if there was anything burning inside. I knew looting was already starting, so we scrambled to find something in the garage to board up the windows. Everything else was exactly as I left it, the dishes from lunch still in the sink.
The backyard was badly burned. My outside happy place was gone. Trees, the fire pit, outdoor couch, chairs, a privacy wall we had put up by the fire pit, all gone. But the house was still there.
I threw a few more things in a suitcase after we got the windows boarded up and walked back. It was hard to go, but I knew it wasn’t safe to stay there.
There were a group of people on one of the corners we walked past, who were handing out free Jersey Mike sandwiches. We realized we hadn’t eaten and we took a couple. The combination of a long emotional day and finally having some food, we both commented they were the best sandwiches we had ever eaten.
While we were finishing them up, my phone got a text. There was a fire in Eaton Canyon and I should evacuate. It was the first and only notification I got.
I saw my next-door neighbor a few days later. The house he had grown up, his family home, just a few feet from mine, was destroyed. He asked me what everyone had been asking me. What had I done differently. I had to tell him nothing.
“Then it must have been God’s will,” he said. A remark made with no bitterness or anger. Just a simple statement.
Over the next few days, I started hearing another explanation from various people. Maui Blue.
If you haven’t heard the theory, blue houses in the Maui fire apparently were spared. More viral online post than anything based on fact, but it seemed as good an explanation as any. Or maybe the wind just changed at exactly the right moment. Or maybe it was, indeed, just God’s will. Whatever the reason, I vowed that as long as I call it home, it will remain Maui Blue.
But it would be a long time before I would call it home again.
We drove back to Altadena on Thursday, January 9th. Most of the streets were blocked off. DMan and I parked where we could and walked a couple of miles to my block.
I felt like I was in one of those Apocalyptic movies where the whole world has been destroyed. Entire blocks had been reduced to rubble. We had to be careful where we walked because there were wires down and debris in the streets. Small fires were still burning from gas lines that hadn’t yet been turned off. Every now and then there were a couple of houses still standing, untouched. We finally got close. The cute little street that had been lined by tiny houses, just a block from my house where Kody loved to walk was completely obliterated, unrecognizable. We turned down my street. The entire block across from me was gone.
As we started down the street, a neighbor stopped me. “Wait, aren’t you the blue house?”
“Yes.”
“I am 100 percent sure your house is still standing.”
I was still shocked by what she had said, but I asked, “Yours?”
“Everything is gone.”
I burst into tears. Relief and sadness for her. We hugged and then continued down the street, walking as fast as we safely could.
Chimneys were still standing but houses were gone. My chimney was bright pink, and I thought I saw it as we got closer, connected to the roof. I kept asking DMan, “You see it, right? You see it? And it’s on a roof?”
And then we were in front of it. The houses to the right were all gone. The houses across from it were all gone. Most of the houses behind it were gone. Only two houses to the left were still standing There it was in all it’s bright blue glory. Looking almost as I had left it.
I unlocked the door and we went inside. Obviously, it smelled. Two windows had been broken by the fire department, to check if there was anything burning inside. I knew looting was already starting, so we scrambled to find something in the garage to board up the windows. Everything else was exactly as I left it, the dishes from lunch still in the sink.
The backyard was badly burned. My outside happy place was gone. Trees, the fire pit, outdoor couch, chairs, a privacy wall we had put up by the fire pit, all gone. But the house was still there.
I threw a few more things in a suitcase after we got the windows boarded up and walked back. It was hard to go, but I knew it wasn’t safe to stay there.
There were a group of people on one of the corners we walked past, who were handing out free Jersey Mike sandwiches. We realized we hadn’t eaten and we took a couple. The combination of a long emotional day and finally having some food, we both commented they were the best sandwiches we had ever eaten.
While we were finishing them up, my phone got a text. There was a fire in Eaton Canyon and I should evacuate. It was the first and only notification I got.
I saw my next-door neighbor a few days later. The house he had grown up, his family home, just a few feet from mine, was destroyed. He asked me what everyone had been asking me. What had I done differently. I had to tell him nothing.
“Then it must have been God’s will,” he said. A remark made with no bitterness or anger. Just a simple statement.
Over the next few days, I started hearing another explanation from various people. Maui Blue.
If you haven’t heard the theory, blue houses in the Maui fire apparently were spared. More viral online post than anything based on fact, but it seemed as good an explanation as any. Or maybe the wind just changed at exactly the right moment. Or maybe it was, indeed, just God’s will. Whatever the reason, I vowed that as long as I call it home, it will remain Maui Blue.
But it would be a long time before I would call it home again.
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