Sometimes words fall short to describe the type of life-changing events that happened to Almeda Fire survivors. No one could ever possibly know, unless they have experienced it firsthand, what it is like to lose a home, and all one’s belongings. To barely have time to evacuate in a haze of disbelief and shock.
Flames on the highway signal that this is really happening and that you can’t return to pick up last-minute items—anything, nothing at all. Not even the photo of your first childhood cat that you adored. Wisdom tells me now about the obvious: to have a go-bag if you live in a wildfire zone; to hold what is precious and important that can be grabbed at a moment’s notice.
I thought surely my home would be safe until I received a video sent to me in the middle of the night with my neighborhood in flames.
And like the fire, life moved on fast like it does. So many years passed. So many moves. Impermanent housing and constant shapeshifting to live in temporary places with new roommates and less-than-ideal housing preferences because of predatory rental hikes and scarce housing after the fire.
Who could ever believe that after so long, so much tapped funding, and the constant and yearslong hum and whispers of funding coming that it could actually be true? I was doubtful but curious. I joined a local recovery community online through ZoneCaptains.org and made friends and community with other survivors. And when HARP finally arrived, with an ounce of faith, I applied because I was encouraged to and rooted in a community of other survivors and those still seeking to recover years later.
I followed the bureaucratic steps, submitted documents, checked task-complete boxes, and always had a friendly voice from the HARP and ReOregon case leads team guiding the way. Still doubtful and hesitant, I put one foot in front of the other. I was encouraged by my survivor community to keep going, so I did.
There were so many friendly and supportive people from start to finish with the HARP application. The professionalism and communication were appreciated and supportive. They were always in touch and leading me to the next step. In particular, I stayed in touch with my Zone Captain and was coached when I needed it most. I could finally see the possibility of something tangible about to happen. It was feeling surreal but hopeful and probable.
I can finally breathe again. I’m safe. I’m secure. I won’t be asked to leave, won’t experience a predatory rental hike, or live with anyone, unless it’s on my terms. The gift of Zone Captains and the survivor community ultimately led me to HARP and becoming permanently rehoused.
It’s hard to explain, but I finally feel like I can hit the un-pause button. I can finally begin where I left off. I will be forever thankful for all the people and professionals that have led the way.
