Last Tuesday feels like a blur, a day I’d give anything to forget. I still see it vividly though: the dark plume of smoke rising in the rearview mirror as I left Pacific Palisades to volunteer at my children's school. Just an hour later, I was racing back, frantic, my heart pounding as a volcanic cascade of ash and brown haze swallowed P.C.H., blotting out the sun. Now, five days have passed, and I still struggle to grasp the enormity of what's happened. The world we and so many of us once called home has been reduced to nothing but rubble and dust.

Yet, amid this devastation, my wanting to shut my eyes and turn away, I've also come to understand: this isn’t a time to forget--it’s time to remember. To remember the hearty life held within those walls—the forts sturdily built with sofa cushions, the first cannonballs in the pool, endless ping pong round robins, the lived-in kitchen banquette with its frayed cushions, and one last Christmas with the tree still standing tall in the corner. The spirit of that home--the love, the laughter, the tears, the heartbreak, all the memories--lives on in every corner of my mind, forms the foundation of my being, and threads through the fabric of who we are as a family.

For now, my heart is set on helping those in my community, supporting those who have lost even more than I have. If you'd like to join me in this effort, please reach out to me at marlien@lecatch.com