We're comfortable here, in a familiar place, with a room to ourselves, a bed for us and a pallet for our child. Our food is great--my father-in-law is a great cook--and I'm having a chance to catch up with our family here in Ojai.
But I want to go home.
I keep thinking of the people who are cramped, in unfamiliar places, places that aren't even homes. I think of those people who don't have homes to go back to--or who don't know if they do. I think of those people who didn't have most of the day to pack.
I can't even imagine what my home city looks like. I feel so removed from what is going on--both in a good and bad way.
I wonder: how will San Diego respond to this disaster? What will the rest of the country think when they look on as we come back to a burned-out county? What will we do, as a community, to take care of each other? What will Dyami and I do?
I'm listening to KPBS right now, streaming on my computer. We listened to the broadcast all the way out of town, until we lost the signal in San Clemente. Somehow, I feel closer to these announcers--they all seem informal, as if San Diego were a family and they're giving difficult news. Will that feeling last?
It seems like New Orleans has had a lot of community bonding--but also a lot of bitterness. Is that our lot? I think the suffering in New Orleans was much worse than here--we're lucky that we're having our disaster in their aftermath--with all the lessons learned.
What will my home be like when I get there? What will we make our city into, moving forward?