The Space Between

The space between trauma and loss.

The space between waking (can you wake from a nightmare when sleep was not had?) and 11:00 am checkout.

The space between feeling foolish for evacuating early and feeling momentarily vindicated at 3:46 am when the Watch Duty Alert came through for our neighborhood.

The space between consciously trying to calm my nervous system by taking deep breaths and unconsciously picking up my phone to find the link to the police scanner.

The space between 7 am when the landlord called to confirm we were out because "they're saying the intersection of Altadena Drive/Fair Oaks is on fire" and finding a link on NextDoor, to Reddit to a Google Map of reported fires, seeing red dots all around our house.

The space between logic, reason, and denial holding their respective corners, deciding it's probably the trees across the street until panic melts each corner, rounding all thoughts into a billowing spiral.

The space between exchanging texts with my neighbor, "we're safe that's all that matters" and receiving a picture of his burnt down house 40 minutes later, seeing our fireplace on the edge of the photo, not being able to decipher if our house is still attached.

The space between coffee and lunch when breakfast is no longer served so I eat spinach leaf by leaf with my right hand while my left hand cradles my phone. Forks and salads aren't things I understand right now.

The space between a friend texting that they are headed up to see if they can see her boyfriend’s house, asking her to check on ours if she can, and a missed call from her 43 minutes later.

The space between 'Calling Anita' and a loaded "hi".

The space between "I'm sorry sweetie" and

"y o u r h o u s e i s g o n e".

The space between "talk to you soon" and showing Asha the picture she sent.

The space between the front porch and back porch where our life used to live.

The space between us.

The space between what do we do and now.