In April 2014, I stood outside my apartment building for an entire afternoon, watching firefighters douse flames.
Today, only a few days off the actual anniversary, a home mere blocks from that building caught fire, closing Roland Ave (an essential thoroughfare for people taking kids to Roland Park Elementary, Roland Park Country School and Gilman).
To get the kids to school, we walked past the firetrucks, and through the smell of diesel (trucks) and woodsmoke (burnt building).
I feel very unhinged. It's right there, that panicky feeling of vulnerability, that feeling of swirling in a current of fate totally out of one's control, that combination of luck (I am not in mortal danger, I am not trapped in the fire) and unluck (fire takes everything).