You know what’s surreal? Having to wear this mask outside. Going to your car, and it has a nice coating of ash. Listening to the aircraft go by, and wondering if they’re dropping fire retardant near your home. Wondering if you have a home. Wondering if you will have a home. Knowing people who no longer have homes. Knowing that the place you’ve called home for the last two years is pretty heavily decimated. Watching the rest of the world go on about its business. Knowing that the rest of the world still exists, even if your world largely doesn’t, and not knowing if it completely won’t. Knowing that people are fighting desperately to keep what’s left of your world intact, but not even hearing the slightest hints of progress. Knowing that there will come a point when the autopilot you’re on will eventually quit and you’ll have to confront the emotional reality of all of this face to face. Knowing that for months, if not years, after this is over, you’ll have to drive through landscapes that look straight out of WWI (at the best) to go about your daily business, and hoping that the signs of rebuilding and new growth vegetation will be enough to give you hope. Knowing that you’ll be waiting for the next shoe to drop for God knows how long. Knowing all of this and not being able to do a fucking thing about it except wait.