To the editor: Dropping your own home is like shedding your route in life. (“‘We were 100% alone’: Fire alerts came too late for some Altadena residents,” Jan. 25)
Each 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 house all the time 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 a protracted driveway resulting in nowhere. There isn’t any refuge; there isn’t a consolation. No tears are seen to these close by. The tears are inside tears. They’re clamoring for that day by day sameness, for my traditional route to house.
It’s clear that I face a brand new route, one that’s unusual and unfamiliar. I suppose that age contributes to those feelings. It might be onerous to forge a brand new route when my soul nonetheless clings to the outdated, the acquainted, the loss.
Hopefully, time might help to mitigate loss. Possibly time will ease the tears and ache, however it’s clear that life is headed in a brand new route. And I’m struggling to take that first step.
Marea Marchant, Altadena
