In January, the author's home is threatened by the Eaton fires that devastated parts of North Pasadena and Altadena. While their beloved lemon tree bears fruit, the lemons are soiled by ash and soot, symbolizing the turmoil around them. The author faces survivor's guilt knowing many friends lost their homes. Despite the smoke-damaged living room and the children wearing masks reminiscent of the COVID-19 era, the author finds solace in the little things, acknowledging their survival and expressing gratitude for their kitchen and lemons.
This year my lemons are covered in a layer of soot and ash from the Eaton fires that began a few miles from my North Pasadena home.
Survivor's guilt set in as soon as I returned from being evacuated and realized my home was spared even as homes within two blocks of me burned to the ground.
My children wear masks outdoors - a perverse inverse of the COVID-19 pandemic when indoor spaces invoked fear of deadly infections.
But I have lemons and I have a kitchen to cook in. These are problems I am grateful for.
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