Evacuation 2019

Luis Malbas
Nov 1 · 3 min read

I’m posting this so I can remember what this was like. I didn’t like it. But I suspect it’s not going to be the last time this happens if I continue to live in Northern California.

I slept on the couch with the emergency radio near my head. It was turned down low so my sleeping five-year-old couldn’t hear it. He and my wife were fast sleep in our bedroom at the back of the house. I wanted to be near the front door in case the police arrived to tell us to evacuate.

And they did.

At 4:40 am I woke to the sound of a speeding patrol car blaring the “high-low” signal of evacuation. Through a loudspeaker, the police officer also commanded a repeated “this is a mandatory evacuation. Please evacuate your home.”

I was calm, I had expected it.

Our bags were already at the front door. I just needed to wake my wife and son, get in the car, and go.

My wife easily got up. My son stayed asleep.

I picked him up and headed to the car. He woke while I was walking down the balcony steps to the driveway. There were three patrol cars in front of my house, one of which was pointing a floodlight directly at me and my son. I squinted angrily at them and my son asked me to put him down. We both stared at the police officers. They drove away.

My son got in the car and my wife and I loaded up. We couldn’t decide what to do with the cat. There was so much activity around us; neighbors, the police cars, and the wind. The cat was spooked and was refusing to cooperate. We decided to leave her there. It wasn’t fire danger we were being threatened by, it was the power outage and wind. I would come back tomorrow to check on her and the house.

We were loaded and ready. I had three computers, my prized Gibson Les Paul guitar, and three days worth of clothes. My wife had her clothes, her work computer, and our important documents. My son had a rolling case full of his valuables, which I found out later to be his “stuffies”; stuffed animals that usually line his bed.

My son packed his “stuffies”

It took us three hours to go fifteen miles.

It was surreal.

Maybe it was the lack of sleep, maybe it was the wind, maybe it was the sunrise and the chill of the morning. And the adrenaline. But it all seemed like a very intense dream.

We stopped at the next town south of us. There was a coffee house that just opened for the morning, and we quickly parked and ordered espressos, breakfast sandwiches, and a croissant.

This place was not suffering from a power outage. They almost seemed completely oblivious to the nearby evacuation. I stood in line behind two women. Both had yoga mats, most likely getting ready to take a class at the Bikram Yoga place next door.

After we ordered, the place filled up with others like us. We had quick conversations with a few folks. “What city are you from?” “How long did it take you to evacuate?” “Which route did you take?” We were all still dreaming.

What I remember most vividly was the sun rising. And the brisk wind blowing through the car when we opened our windows. And also, we barely spoke. Three hours. Two adults and a five-year-old. We stayed calm and reassured one another we would be safe.

It’s been four days since the evacuation. I still feel like I haven’t fully exhaled. Although we’re home and we have electricity, I’m on guard.

The smell of smoke is in the air and the streets are quieter than they should be.

And tonight is Halloween.

Welcome to a place where words matter. On Medium, smart voices and original ideas take center stage - with no ads in sight. Watch
Follow all the topics you care about, and we’ll deliver the best stories for you to your homepage and inbox. Explore
Get unlimited access to the best stories on Medium — and support writers while you’re at it. Just $5/month. Upgrade