Burning For You

Here I sit, in the land of sunshine and earthquakes, watching my home state crackle and burn. It used to be that living here in the Golden State meant learning where your closest shelter in case of evacuation was. Now, with thousands of acres currently on fire, the Centennial State seems to be the place to flee. I've heard of global warming, but I didn't expect it to happen all at once on a state-by-state basis.
Not that California has been fire-free this year, but when I look at a map of Colorado and see the animated flames closing in on the towns where I went to college and grew up, it gives me pause. I can remember a summer when there was a fire in Boulder Canyon, threatening to burn all the way through Roosevelt National Forest and onto right through our cabin in the woods. As we drove higher and higher, the smoke remained thick, and we wondered if we should grab everything we could and look for some alternate way back down the mountain.
When we pulled into the driveway, we were met by my older brother with a friend of his, along with my father. They were carrying shovels and axes, charging toward us with a gleam in their collective eye. It was, after a moment of excited jabbering, all just a goof on their part. They weren't going to fight the fire. They were rushing out to push my mother's buttons, who was not at all amused.
We surrendered to the flames that night, choosing to drive back down to the relative safety of our suburban neighborhood where we could watch the fire's progress on our television. Happily, containment came quickly and we were back up the hill the next day, just like always.
Now we sit and wait with the same wishes as before, but across the Continental Divide, praying for rain.