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 Highway. I drove two blocks and took a proper flip into the driveway. By the entrance eating room window I typically caught a glimpse of my household. My canine barked fortunately as I approached the door.
Nothing monumental occurred on any of lately, however coming residence at all times felt snug. My husband died in that home, and my three youngsters 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 is no such thing as a refuge; there is no such thing as a consolation. No tears are seen to these close by. The tears are interior tears. They’re clamoring for that each day sameness, for my traditional path to residence.
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 It might be exhausting to forge a brand new path when my soul nonetheless clings to the outdated, the acquainted, the loss.
Hopefully, time will 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
