Welcome to 99% Contained

Fam, before you read this, let me first say, my headline is misleading.

This morning — as I’ve been doing every morning since the fires began 3 weeks ago today — I checked the containment percentage of the Eaton Fire (the one nearest to us) when I first woke up and learned that it’s 99% contained.

And by “contained” I mean, fire fighters have boxed it in with fire breaks or natural barriers to stop it from spreading or expanding even as flames inside the boundaries that somehow survived the rain we finally received this weekend still burn.

I had told myself I wouldn’t unpack the bags we’ve had waiting at our door to evacuate until containment reached 100%. But today, when I woke up – surrounded by luggage and uneasiness – I decided 99% was enough.

And as I put our clothes and items we thought invaluable enough to save at a moments notice away, I came across the box of personal writings I’ve been archiving since I was in my pre-teens.

Yeah, I was gonna take this, too.

Inside, was my current poetry notebook and I turned to the last entry — 11.3. 23.

I’ve written a new poem since then, and later today, I finally transferred it. But this poem, despite the date on which I wrote it, spoke more to me today.

What happens tomorrow, I don’t know.

The Eaton Fire might get to 100% containment. Or God forbid, another tragedy could break out.

But today, Fam?

I’m good.

And I just wanted to share this poem to let you know that.

free to be me

i don’t like

the way i look when i run

feel so damn awkward when i trot

and skipping…

skipping’s out of the question

but when i walk

nay

when i stroll

i’m in control

each step i take

is a glide

and my mind wanders

scratch that

it flies

high above

untethered

from the ground

moving underneath my feet

flat

to the

asphalt

gravel

grass

each foot step

building on the last

freedom

free

to be me.