We need to be bothered once in a while

I remember the first time Jack drove me through the mountains. I was in awe the entire time, staring out the window watching the rolling textures and the steeper points, the trees turning to rock, the clouds getting closer. 

 

As we drove the road that hugged the mountainside, with stark drops leading to the river or the valley floor, I remember thinking that my family would love this. At the time, I still couldn’t believe I was in Colorado, driving through the mountains. 

 

The first time I ever went to Jack’s mother’s house in the southwestern area of Colorado near Ouray and Telluride, I recall asking her if one ever got used to having the mountains casually in their backyard. She said yes—and no. Their house is located in a valley, and every day the mountains that surround them are still a beauty to behold. 

 

Now that I’ve been in Colorado for almost a year, I think I’m starting to get it. The newness of the mountains and nature has worn off, but the awe of their beauty I think will always stay. There are still some things, though, that I will have to get used to. Like more mountain fires due to the dryness and high winds of Colorado. 

 

Last weekend, Jack and I ventured through the mountains to visit his mother for a long weekend. It was a fabulous and fantastic time, and I will continue to be in awe sitting outside on their back patio, enjoying the warm breeze and staring out at the mountains. 

 

But on the last night that we were there, a fire broke out on the mountainside near the town just south of them, and we could easily see the flames from the house. We watched that night as the flames grew and spread both up the side of the mountain and toward the valley.

Eventually, the flames hopped north as well due to the wind. People who were evacuating their homes started to arrive in the town where we were, and we were constantly monitoring the wind strength and speed as the sky darkened and flames grew brighter amidst the smoke. I guess air assistance had been requested to put out the fire, but we never saw them. Our guess was that equipment was away helping fight the massive fires happening in Utah, whose smoke had made the sun red and angry that day and my eyes dry. 

 

It was a scary and worrying time. I quite disliked the helpless feelings that came from watching the large fire grow, people be evacuated, and belongings destroyed. But there was nothing I could do. 

 

It reminded me of the time Waseca’s Moonan Marsh was on fire across from my parents’ home a few years ago, burning acres right in front of our eyes. That was a helpless feeling, too. Within a short time as I watched–fortunately from across the road–that fast-moving fire completely changed the grassy landscape I had been taking for granted into a (temporarily) blackened, ugly mess. And all I could do was stand at the end of our driveway and take it in. Thankfully, the firefighters and emergency response team worked diligently, saved our house and land, and got the fire contained. 

 

Now, in the morning sun, this mountain fire is just smoke, lingering on at the edge of the mountain town. And I am thankful. 

 

My Determination: “We need not to be let alone. We need to be really bothered once in a while. How long is it since you were really bothered? About something important, about something real?” ― Ray Bradbury, Fahrenheit 451