We Almost Got Trapped on a Burning Mountain, or "Everything's Fine."

We were driving home from school when it happened.

The cars ahead of us slowed to a crawl.

Then they stopped.

As traffic inched forward, we started to see the smoke. But we weren’t sure it was smoke, not yet. Maybe it was dust and debris from construction. Maybe it was something else. It couldn’t possibly be smoke from a wildfire. My fears about that were just a result of my doomscrolling, right?

We’d already lived through a pandemic, an arctic blast, an F3 tornado, a heat dome, and a Category 4 hurricane. There was no way we’d be adding wildfire to the list so soon. And yet, other drivers began holding their phones out the window to film what was going on. Strangers were walking ahead of us, toward the source. Then we saw fire trucks in the road. “No way,” I whispered.

This couldn’t be real life.

I put on my N95 mask and goggles, the ones that fit over my prescription frames. My daughter put on an extra mask from her bag. She said, “Where’s my goggles?” And I had to admit the embarrassing part. I didn’t pack them. I didn’t pack them because my spouse had made a face at them. So I’d stowed them in the gas mask kit we thought she might need someday, but not right away. It was just supposed to be a normal Friday afternoon. Now here we were.

Doomsday was supposed to happen later.

Not today.