It has been 45 days since we fled for our lives and watched in horror from a hotel room as television news crews witnessed entire communities, including ours, burn to the ground. I can never forget those feelings. Now, on Thanksgiving Day, I am overcome with amazement and gratitude that we are safe and well. If my husband had not awoken as early as he did, if he had not investigated why it smelled like a campfire, we might have been among those who were trapped by flames on all sides.
Today we do not care about turkey or feasting or bargain hunting. Today we paint. We powered through the emotions, pushed and pulled through financial hurdles, and found a place to call home, and yesterday at 5:30pm we received the keys to our next adventure. Together. Safe and well.
Tomorrow we get WiFi and lots of little touches that make it Home. Saturday we check out of the hotel that has been our temporary shelter, and introduce our three kitties–who are also noticeably thankful to have survived that wretched night!–to their new safe haven. Sunday we wake up at home. Home. It has a whole new depth of emotion associated with that word, that sound in my head. Home. Home Sweet Home.