The past couple of weeks have been among the most unpredictable and devastating days Los Angeles has seen in decades. This city is the only place that I have ever called home, and to see places that bring back fond memories of my life burning in flames has been an eye-opening experience for me. The surreal nature of the situation has caused me to pay closer attention to the things that we take for granted everyday.
It seems as if our community here in Manhattan Beach has the privilege of being disconnected from all of the chaos that happens across the world. Journalists are always covering the most horrific tragedies overseas but they end up feeling so fictitious and nightmarish because of how distant they are. The L.A. fires, however, are much different.
While I was fortunate enough to not have been directly affected by the fires, the proximity of Manhattan Beach to all of the L.A. fires has revealed how connected we are as a community. Besides the pandemic, smelling smoke and seeing ashes in the air on my way to school was one of the first times I felt like I had been able to see the effects of a crisis that made national headlines.
I have gone online and seen fires across the street from the Palisades Village Mall, where I remember shopping just a month ago. I watched the Rose Bowl turn into an evacuation shelter after just seeing it on TV a week ago. Worst of all, I witnessed family and friends lose their home I never thought that one day, I’d be watching the city I’ve always called home become full of smoke and ash.
L.A. County officials reported over 10,000 structures have been destroyed so far. The lives of every one of those people who were stripped of their home or business are now completely different than they were just two weeks ago.
I feel that my eyes have been opened by the news in the world that seems too dystopian to be true. We spend most of our life oblivious to the fact that at any given moment, everything could change.
I myself have been shallow enough to feel as if I was invincible in the bubble of our community. Yet the catastrophic events of the fires have burst that bubble, and with it my feeling of invincibility against chaos.
These recent events have forced me to remember that things can change at any moment and to appreciate the consistency of life while we have it. I want to appreciate the beauty in the little things. The feeling of opening the door of my childhood home or walking through downtown Manhattan Beach are pleasures that I have become desensitized to.
The L.A. fires have reminded me just how lucky I am to have those pleasures, and my heart hurts for those who have had similar comforts and familiarities stripped from them.
I’ve realized I have become engrossed in the monotony of my life. Up until now, I, as well as many people around me, have not thought about how things completely out of our control can change everything we have ever known.
We cannot control what the future holds, but we can appreciate the present. Because of these tragedies, I have made a commitment to live everyday going forward, remembering how lucky I am to do even the most mundane of things in peace each day.
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