Getting out in a hurry

RENO -- The soft whisper of my cell phone's text message alert, "Hey Hey" gently startled me out of my not so solid sleep on the couch at our Reno, Nev. home at 2:24 a.m. last night.

"Linds, are you up? Is the fire by our house?" my step-daughter, Alisha, texted me after getting out of the midnight showing of "Twilight: Breaking Dawn."

I was supposed to go to with her, but wussed out because I was "tired."

"What fire?" I thought as I threw on my glasses and noticed a smell in the air that reminded me of a pot of coffee left on too long.

The room was pitch black, the TV I had fallen asleep to was now a silent screen no longer illuminating the room with the lullaby buzz of late night infomercials.

The power was out.

I opened the blinds in our front room to a blaze of orange and yellow flames glowing in the all too close vicinity.

The winds were blowing at 80 mph, kicking up leaves, debris, ash and smoke in a tornado-like whirl in the darkness.

I looked at my dog, Sookie, who was now perched at full alert on the couch, waiting for my signal for what to do next.

I (very surprisingly) calmly walked into our kitchen to grab a flashlight. I switched on the first one I grabbed. The batteries, which I thought I had just replaced, were dead. I reached for the next illumination candidate and thankfully, it shone brightly when I slid the switch "on."

My phone "Hey Heyed" me again. This time Alisha told me that our neighbor up the hill, her best friend's father's yard was ablaze and he had been evacuated. She texted, "Please, get out of there."

I gathered myself and thought a thought I was not prepared for: "What do I grab knowing I may never come back to this house again?"

My initial thought was, "Alisha is with her friends on her way to her mom's on lower ground – she is safe. Chuck is out of the country on tour – he is safe. Now, I need to make the dog and myself safe. I have to grab everything Sookie and I need and get out of here."

I've been in sticky situations on flights before and my greatest fear is that I don't have my contact lenses or glasses. The prospect of not being able to see paralyzes me.

I headed for the bathroom first and grabbed my contact lenses, saline and all of my spectacles. (I couldn't make progressives/trifocals work, so I now have two pairs of single vision and a pair of readers for when I wear contacts. Par for the course – complicated and high maintenance.)

I threw a toothbrush, toothpaste, my thyroid medication, my makeup brushes makeup into my bag. (My thought on the makeup was not even for me – it was beyond bizarre that I grabbed it. I thought – well, if my vast professional kit perishes ... at least I'll have this and I can still work. Plus, I am supposed to do Alisha and three of her friends' makeup for their big Junior Achievement Dance on Saturday night ..."

I headed for my closet where I threw on the clothes I wore the day before (shirt on inside out as I discovered later) and a pair of biker boots.

I then grabbed my purse, threw in the cash I had in the house and our checkbooks.

I packed my computer, my scheduling book (I am old school calendar style!) our birth certificates, passports and social security cards.

I put Sookie's collar on her and shuffled her and the first load into the car.

I could hear cars honking, alerting people to wake up and get out.

As my husband said, it was like they were warning, "The British are coming!"

I went back into the house, grabbed some nuts, bottles of seltzer (as we use a Brita and had no bottled flat H20,) Sookie's entire 30 pound food bin, her dishes, leash, my winter coat and a key to the front door.

I decided that was all I had time for.

I am purely survival in these situations.

No sentimental, wishy washy-ness.

My only thoughts were to grab what we would need to SURVIVE if we could never go back.

As I exited the house to drop these final items in the car, I realized that the garage door would not open on its own without electricity.

I am a self sufficient, independent woman, but there are certain things I depend on my husband to do for me. In retrospect, as a woman who is on her own several months of the year while her man is working, I should know more about things around the house that intimidate me – like the garage door.

But, I had a flashback to my mother when I was growing up, pulling on a cord to manually open the door.

I looked up and there was the red cord and handle. I pulled hard, but the door only inched upwards.

I then took a deep breath and used momentum to swing the door up so I could place my hands beneath and push! I was out!

I pulled the car out of its prison, got out to pull the garage door back down and was suffocated by smoke and ash swirling around me in the strongly gusting wind.

My eyes burned and the nostalgic smell of a campfire permeated the air.

But, this was far more sinister than a s'more-cooking bonfire.

"How did this 'brush fire' start?" I wondered, almost aloud.

I had no information other than what my step-daughter told me.

As I drove out of our gated community, whose usually locked gates were wide open with smoke flooding through – it looked almost theatrical, like a stage bottom-lit with warmly toned gels and dry ice feeding the veil that flowed gracefully toward me.

But, this smoke was not the angelic, pure white loveliness of a stage show.

This was thick, dark gray almost black ooze, demonic in nature.

Evacuation buses and vans were parked along the long, steep road that leads to our subdivision. Police and firefighters rushed up the hill toward the advancing enemy.

As I drove forward, I could not help but feel I was leaving something behind.

Not material things, but a part of me.

This was changing me. In a moment, I was becoming wiser, calmer, more ingrained with life.

Another challenging experience carving its way into my persona.

The innocence of never experiencing something of this nature, gone.

Sookie and I made it lower ground to my gracious, warm and caring host – my step-daughter's mother's home. She had even texted me at one point, "Come over here."

We sat up together, watching the news, viewing the flames devour the mountainside and the homes around it.

I tried to get back up to my house a few hours later, but the road was blocked by several police officers who refused to let me through.

Sookie and I were lucky enough to get a hotel room ... and now we are waiting it out.

Writing, working, watching the news and waiting.

Missing the immediate safety of Milwaukee, my family and friends there.

While I wait, I can't help but formulate my "woulda, coulda, shoulda list" and mentally devise my emergency kit that I will be making upon my return to my (G-d willing) in-tact home.

So, do you have a plan?

Do you know what you would grab if you knew you would never be able to go back?

What would you grab?