I got up early this morning and told roommate, “You’re staying in today. Your cough is back and on Thursday morning you’re going to the vet while I’m in San Diego.” He meowed his disapproval. It was still dark when I started down off the mountain. There was little to no traffic on the way to Oakland. I had beaten the usual morning gridlock and that gave me the feeling that what I was about to do was blessed.
My destination was International Blvd and East 31st Ave in East Oakland. As I drove down, I kept hearing the news updates of how the body count at the Ghost Ship Fire had risen now to thirty-six. The Alameda County Sheriff spokesperson said some families have been notified. I imagined being given such news and looked to the Richmond Bridge handrailing as a way of stopping the intense pain.
Most of the victims were in their 20’s with their lives just starting. I suppose The Ghost Ship was a happening place where techno music played and people danced; I’ve always had two left feet so you probably wouldn’t have caught me there but Tashi loves to dance. Thankfully she didn’t go there that fateful Friday night. I’m trying not to end this post on a down note but in this part of the world, the coming days won’t be merry nor joyous. This too will pass