Creek Fire

The forest of my youth is burning.
Burned.


Twelve hundred miles away
I am perched on my front step,
peering over a tiny screen
and an even tinier map.
Barely discernible roads are painted red.
I can not determine how much I’ve lost. 

The dock where I first held hands with a boy.

The family cabin where I got my first bee sting; 
running headlong to my grandmother,
terrified at the hurt and the tiny dying creature. 

The lake where I finally got to drive the boat,
my father tucked proudly behind me.

I fell in love for the first time in that forest
and I wonder if my childhood is ash. 

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