Dear Editors,
A wildfire was the last thing on my mind the morning of Jan. 7. I was at home saying goodbye to my brother Owen who was about to go back to college. I didn’t know it then, but that moment would be one of my last memories of my childhood home in the Pacific Palisades.
I arrived on campus bright and early for a 6:30 a.m. track practice. It was the start of second semester, and I was excited to begin school and be reunited with friends I hadn’t seen in over two weeks.
By 10:40 a.m., Addie Seidel ’26 and I were in our AP World History class discussing events from a century ago, completely oblivious to what was about to happen in the present.
At lunch, I saw that I had received a text message at 11:14 a.m. from my brother in our family group chat that read, “There’s a fire in the Palisades?” Owen was already on the plane and my mom was at work, which meant that only my dad and Bobby, our 13-year-old dalmatian, were home. When I replied to ask what was going on, my mom told me we were evacuating.
The thing is, evacuations aren’t rare in the Palisades. Whenever there is news of a fire, we are used to packing our bags and checking evacuation zones. What I didn’t know at the time was that my dad could see the flames from our backyard as he left.
Then Addie told me that, if needed, I could bring my family and our dog to her house. Surely the fire wouldn’t, and couldn’t, reach both of our homes. How could a fire stretch 3.4 miles across neighborhoods, stores and Sunset Boulevard? In hindsight, those few miles feel small and insignificant.
I left campus at 1:50 p.m. and met my parents at a hotel in Santa Monica. We hugged when we reunited, uncertain of the fate of our home.
At 4:30 p.m., we saw an online fire map that showed our home right at the edge of the flames.
By 7 p.m., I knew my home was gone – a mere seven hours after first learning of the fire.
Not only did my home, Addie’s home and many of my classmates’ homes burn that day, but so did the small things that brought us joy. For me, it was my little lamb comfort blanket that I had since I was a baby, a mobile of colorful birds that hung from my bedroom ceiling and a purple wooden Marlborough sign given to me by a family whose three daughters had graduated from our school.
Not a day goes by where I do not think of the meaningful items that are no longer here. While memories of the fires may eventually fade away for some people, these fires and their effects will never be just a memory for those seriously affected.
In the future, when I look back at my 16-year-old self, I hope I don’t just remember the amount of loss I felt. I also hope I remember the overwhelming kindness and support I have received from friends, family and the Marlborough community – even before I knew I needed it. I didn’t know just how much I needed a new penguin stuffed animal, but the All-School Council did. I didn’t know how badly I needed a new comfort hoodie, but my friends did. I didn’t know what kind of support I would need once I got back to school, but my school counselors and teachers did. These examples are just a fraction of the overwhelming support that I have received from this community.
While I wasn’t able to hold onto my childhood home forever, I still and will always have the Marlborough community – and for that I am eternally grateful.
Sincerely,
Cara Huang
