November 2018

I remember really clearly the night of November 7th just before going to sleep hearing sirens and thinking to myself “that’s too many sirens.” I awoke in the morning to a text message from a friend who lives out of state asking me if I was ok and if I was safe. I had no idea why she was asking but it made my stomach drop. Immediately I went online to see if I could find out what she was referring to and was met with the unfolding news about the shooting at Borderline. I was horrified and paralyzed, and I had kids to wake up and get to school.
As I attempted to go through my morning I heard all the helicopters of the news crews and I started texting my people. I checked in on friends who have college age kids to see if their people were safe and I checked in on friends who have been affected by gun violence to see if they were alright. None of them were ok. I also started texting my husband, who was out of town for work, to assure him that we were alright.
There was a fun run at my son’s school that morning. The kids were excited and the parents were plastic as they showed up as best they could in the midst of chaos to support their little ones. I went straight from the fun run to the vigil being held at California Lutheran University that morning. It was such a hard space to be in, and so necessary to be with people while experiencing my own grief. The news was so fresh that it was hardly digestible, and I found myself sitting in grief dating back 13 years to another shooting in Thousand Oaks that was too much too hold still.
I walked out of the chapel that morning and as I was walking to my car I saw the smoke rising from the newly ignited Hill Fire. The rest of that day felt a lot like chaos. Freeways were closing, the traffic in town was backing up. I was stalled in traffic on my way to pick up my kids because everyone wanted to get around the freeway closures, and while I was stalled people were walking in front of my car on their way to the vigil at the civic arts plaza.
Around 3am my father-in-law began calling to see if we needed to evacuate as the Woolsey Fire picked up and drew near. We could see the flames from our front yard, and although we were not in an evacuation area we chose to leave around 6am. As we drove by the fire on our way out of town my oldest son asked, with hope and optimism, if this meant we would get a new house. We stayed away for the day, but returned that night as it had become clear that the edge of the fire closest to us was no longer a danger. The next few days were spent inside, hiding from the smoke, listening to the helicopters, checking in on friends to see if there were any needs, being checked on by friends to see if there were any needs.
The rest gets really blurry. I couldn’t keep the news straight about where the fire was, who was in danger, when the funerals were- it was all really chaotic and seemed to be coming from all directions. There wasn’t any space to fully mourn after the shooting or the fire- it was all too much.
In spite of all that, there are a few memories that are always attached to last November for me. I will always remember the friends who reached out and brought us an air purifier while I was locked down with my kids. I will always remember the sense of community and support and hope from the lemonade stand. I will always remember that in the midst of it all that people were good to one another.

Shannon S.