“We have to evacuate” I told my children early that morning in late October.

The mayor of our city had just ordered mandatory evacuations for our area.

Wild fires were burning out of control and our home was deemed to be in the path. Low humidity and hot Santa Ana winds fueled the blaze.

We could hear the howling wind all night and the smell of burning ashes lingered in the air. The night before, the fire was many miles away. The next morning, the firestorm was looming on our doorstep.

We began filling the cars. Animals, photo albums, medications and personal treasures were packed first. The clay pot my son created with his kindergarten hands was wrapped in a towel. The chalk drawing of a panda my daughter drew when she was eight was carefully wrapped as well.

We rationalized that we would need clothing to wear to work and school, if our house burned to the ground. We filled all the suitcases we owned. We began filling large trash bags with clothing, shoes, underwear and socks.

We lugged the suitcases and trash bags downstairs to the garage. We were overpowered in the garage by the stench of a dirty ashtray. We grabbed face masks that we used when we mowed the lawn. We had heard that the hardware stores were completely sold out of them. The odor was potent from the blazing beast fast approaching us. We covered our faces with the masks and a bandana

We loaded the suitcases, trash bags and mementos into the car. We fastened the collars and leashes on our dogs. We stashed unopened water bottles into whatever crevices of space we found in the trunk.

We walked back into our house for what could have been the last time. We surveyed what was left. The family room and living room had furniture, but were devoid of those personal things that make it a home. We had packed the family pictures, leaving the rooms naked and bare.

The china cabinet stood fully stocked with china. We had no room in the cars for china.

On a last minute run through the house, we took the blankets and comforters off of the beds. We stashed pillows and pajamas between the passenger seats of the cars.

Our house interior had the structure and the form, but lacked a soul. Even with the furniture, it was barren and empty.

Somehow we managed to pack a game console and a few video games into one car. We decided that they would be expensive to replace. But then it would be even more costly to replace the big items we had to leave behind. The furniture, the rugs, the wood shutters, the hardwood floors, appliances and the big screen television set.

We locked the doors and set the burglar alarm, as we did every time we left our house unattended. But this time, we were not sure we would be coming home. We wondered if our house would be spared from the destruction of the flames.

There were a few brief tears, but we tried to find hope. We had to be as strong as the other half a million Southern California residents who were forced to evacuate. All of us had to leave our homes behind. We all had to escape with our lives and our loved ones.

We opened the garage door and were sickened to find our tidy cul-de-sac covered in a thick layer of soot and grime. It was mid-morning and the air was dark with flying ash. It hurt our lungs to even breathe.

The distant sun hung red in a swirl of smoke. The weather conditions were ominous and dire.

We called to our neighbors as we slowly backed out of the driveway. Some neighbors were still packing and others had already left. We drove away from our home of eleven years hoping and praying that we would be back.