Day 59: Flames

Do you know the song “Coming home” by Dirty Money and Skylar Grey? If you don’t, it goes like this:

“I’m coming home. I’m coming home.

Tell the world I’m coming home.”

Six years ago, I swore I was singing it so loudly in my head in Taiwan, three hours and a flight away to Saigon, Vietnam. It was my home. I was where I want to tell the world where I’m from.

And in some sense, it still is, depending on the definition of home. If home is simply where one is born, or where one’s parents are still living, then yes, that’s my home. But defining home in such technical sense, in my opinion, takes away the familiarity and warmth of the term. If home is defined that way, then why would there be a song about coming home? Why would there be nights where travelers stay up and look at the stars trying to find the direction of home? Why would there be books about how important finding your home is? Surely, those masterpieces refer to “home” more than a geological location on a map.

So at some point, I got a new home. I got a new place to tell the world about. I have a new direction to look at whenever I feel like a piece of me is missing. I have a new place where my emotions, feelings, experiences and memories collide. The place is Ojai, Southern California where I’ve spent four years of my absolute youth there. I can tell you all about those years, as those memories are imprinted on my immature brain. I remember every time I walked in the damn heat during the days of August, where the flies came out of nowhere and annoyed the hell out of everyone at the lunch table. I remember the beach days where I could just run for seemingly forever with my feet touching the cool water. I remember the stress of the finals, the innocent of teenager’s romance and even the very ups and downs of dramas. I know all the sensations.

This is home.

And my home needs help.

  

As you know, it’s been a tough time for Southern California with the fires that has been raging on. Houses have been destroyed. Buildings have been burned. The roads looks like those you see in the desert with plantations dying all around. It’s hardly recognizable from the place in my memory.

There’s a very real chance that I’ll be coming home to nothing. But I know that the flame won’t defeat us. The fire will stand no chance against my home, the people of California who has stand up for so much. I know we will stand up for this too.

This is my home – the places I love, the people I care about and the sensation I will never forget.

Sincerely,
Denny

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As you're reading this, thousands of people in various locations of California are living in shelters, losing most of everything they have worked in their life. Thousands more are still running from the fires. I'd love nothing more if everyone could help out by texting UWVC to 41444 and spread the words.