Boggs Mountain Summer of 20217
There are events and times in our lives that stand out more clearly than other moments, blending into the randomness of the great melting pot of life. And then there are those instances that remain so clear you feel every emotion and every detail as real as if it were happening even now.
There is a memory I will never forget that happened ten years ago today: The start of the Valley Fire. For you, that memory you will never forget may be another fire, or not a fire at all. It might be the birth of your child, your wedding day, or when you lost someone dearer to you than words can describe. But for me, one of these indelible moments happened ten years ago today. No, I did not lose my home. In fact, at the time, I didn’t even live near the path of the fire. But I suppose it still stands out to me because it also marks the day of my 40th birthday. What are the odds of that? Well, three hundred and sixty-five to one, to be exact.
What’s seared into my memory is that in the midst of me enjoying my celebratory birthday BBQ with neighbors and friends, I looked up and saw a black cloud and knew what I was seeing—a fire blazing, alive, active, and moving fast. Within moments, our phones alerted us, and we knew Cobb was on fire and the fire was on its way to Middletown.
Now I haven’t lost a home to a fire, nor have I lost someone I loved or even a pet to a fire. To those things, I can’t tell you for certain what this tenth anniversary means. But I have lost my home and belongings to two trees falling on my house in the midst of a roaring rainstorm. I was displaced for six months while my home went through a full renovation; all my belongings were replaced with new material things, lacking the luster, joy, memories, and happiness that come when holding an item that represents so much more than its function and purpose.
And I do know the feeling of wanting to go back and stop the clock, or at least trying to make the world relate to me in a whole new way and context, but it doesn’t. It merely goes on without care for us or a thought of what we’ve just experienced. But for us, time stands still; nothing will ever be the same. Shock, confusion, and grief are all words that do not express what we feel in the very core of ourselves. No words will do. To that, we can all testify after decades of living.
Usually, with the anniversary of events like this one, I might mention a word or two but go on with my good news as always — introducing you to my next favorite happy hour venue. But somehow, my heart isn’t there this week. Today marks not only ten years since the Valley Fire, but also the completion of another decade I have lived. I turn fifty today.
Looking back over my life, I could call some choices regrets, and others, accomplishments. But as I look ahead to the next half-century of my life, I am choosing to look at my past with great pride because every mistake, failure, success, and achievement has brought me here and will take me forward into the good, bad, and ugly (to refer to a favorite western movie of mine).
And in the midst of it all, one thing remains strong: Every day, it is my goal to look for beauty. This week, I have had the pleasure of eating garden-fresh green beans, and I can not express how much joy that has brought me. And tomorrow will bring even more beauty into my life if I look for it.
So yes, today is a day filled with a great deal of emotions for many of us. But we are here, resilient and stronger because of our community, and that gives me great joy for today, tomorrow, and the years ahead. And that is the beauty that I have found today.
Boggs Mountain Summer of 2025
