To the editor: Dropping your own home is like dropping your path in life. (“‘We were 100% alone’: Fire alerts came too late for some Altadena residents,” Jan. 25)
Every single day I took a left from Allen Avenue in Altadena onto Braeburn Street. I drove two blocks and took a proper flip into the driveway. By means of the entrance eating room window I usually caught a glimpse of my household. My canine barked fortunately as I approached the door.
Nothing monumental occurred on any of today, however coming dwelling at all times felt comfy. My husband died in that home, and my three kids flourished in that home. I made the identical journeys repeatedly over a interval of 49 years. As I aged the home remained the identical, a refuge, a solace for my soul.
Now, I’m standing on an extended driveway resulting in nowhere. There isn’t any refuge; there is no such thing as a consolation. No tears are seen to these close by. The tears are inside tears. They’re clamoring for that each day sameness, for my regular path to dwelling.
It’s clear that I face a brand new path, one that’s unusual and unfamiliar. I suppose that age contributes to those feelings. It could be exhausting to forge a brand new path when my soul nonetheless clings to the outdated, the acquainted, the loss.
Hopefully, time may help to mitigate loss. Perhaps time will ease the tears and ache, however it’s clear that life is headed in a brand new path. And I’m struggling to take that first step.
Marea Marchant, Altadena
