We are checking two websites nonstop: one for the fire monitoring and one for air quality. The websites keep crashing, though, I think because they weren’t built for this much traffic. But this is the Bay Area, after all — we want the right maps, and we want them fast. “You can’t even zoom in on the air quality map,” I catch myself complaining.
There’s a gray light over everything all day long. On the last six evenings, we’ve had what in any other situation you’d call a gorgeous sunset, the bright orange sun a perfect disk framed in gray between the Marin Headlands. But as I step out of my car I look away from it, shielding my face from its apocalyptic light.
I wonder if this will become our new way of life, if slowly we’re just going to get used to avoiding the air. My husband reminds me not to turn on the air conditioner or central fan in our house because it will bring in smoke from outside. I press down every window to make sure it’s tight, and cancel a run with my neighbor after work because neither of us wants to even walk the slight uphill climb to the park.
People I’ve never thought could relate to this situation write to me on the internet. My friend who used to live in China posts advice on my Facebook wall about how to survive air pollution and when to decide enough is enough, and leave.
It can feel that way here right now — some of our best-known tourist destinations burned to ashes, regular avalanches on our highways. A friend notes that we can no longer refer to a “fire season” in California because the inferno of fires just seem to blend one into the next. It’s enough to make anyone start thinking about Armageddon.
“Maybe it won’t be livable for much longer here,” Iris says over tea, “maybe we should start planning to move.”
“But also,” Ellie says, “where would we go? It’s not like there aren’t disasters happening everywhere.”
I walk into a clothing swap one night and a woman there is talking about her aunt who has lost everything: home, clothing, decades of memories. I sit on the couch and nod along. “Yeah,” I say, “it’s awful up there.”
“Oh,” she says, tilting her head toward me, “this is actually in Puerto Rico.”
Continue reading the main storyfrom Don T Breathe - Google News http://ift.tt/2xJ3b98
EmoticonEmoticon