It was about 10:45 on the 8th of October 2017, a Sunday night. I had just finished researching evidence for a gun control debate that would take place the next day in my World History class. I brushed my teeth and returned to my room to pick out a book to read to fall asleep. I sneezed twice before picking up a book. I sneezed again, and then again, and blamed my allergies. Little did I know that I was sneezing because of the smoke coming from a fire a few miles away that would destroy my house in the next two hours. I laid down and closed my eyes, listening to the sound of the power cord outside my bedroom being whipped around by the heavy winds. Bad conditions for a fire, I thought. I wasn’t asleep before my mom knocked and opened the door. She told me to grab my backpack, and to wake up my younger brother and sister. She told me that there was a fire in Calistoga, a small town a few miles northeast of our house. As we walked outside and locked the door I felt the dry heat of that afternoon lingering. We grabbed our dog and cat, both of them frantic, and forced them into my mom’s car. We decided to leave the chickens, planning on returning to our house within twenty-four hours. My brother, sister, and I piled into my mom’s car. We took off towards the main road heading into town. My dad agreed to meet us at Molsberry’s, the local market at the edge of Santa Rosa. White ashes fluttered around us like snow as we shut the doors to the car. We hurried down the road, calling everyone that lived near us who we knew. As we passed houses my mom slammed on the horn, hoping to wake the neighbors on our rural road. We awoke families still asleep, families that would later thank us with tears in their eyes for saving their lives. My dad called those on our private road and urged them to get out. Some were aware of the fire and were preparing to evacuate, others blew it off as another of the many wildfires in our Northern California community.

   We passed a Sheriff’s Deputy at the edge of Santa Rosa and asked him what was happening. There was little information about this fire, and another fire in neighboring Napa County was being blamed for the smoke and ash. We could tell the Sheriff knew better than to believe that. We continued onto Petaluma, where my grandparents live, calling my dad and urging him follow us, as he waited to make calls and make sure that our neighbors made it out.

   When we made it to our grandparent’s house in Petaluma, we turned on the news. We could see the glow coming from the hills surrounding our house. We feared the worst, and around 3:00 A.M. the news channel confirmed that almost all houses in Northeast Santa Rosa were gone. Around that time, I got a text from a friend who also lived off of our road. She told me that Cardinal Newman, our high school was on fire when she had evacuated a few hours prior. First my house, then my school, I thought. What was next?

   The next morning, I woke up with the dread of just waking from a nightmare. I hoped that my experience the night before was just a dream, but I knew better. I remember returning our new puppy to the breeder, because we weren’t sure where our next living situation would be, and if we would have room for our dog. I remember our cousins coming to visit and spend time with us to take our minds off of the situation. I remember being stressed out and scared, and thinking, “I just want to go home”.

   About a week later, we found out that football practice would resume for us. Half of our campus was gone, and many of the other player’s homes. No one was allowed back into the path of the fire’s destruction. One of the varsity coaches worked for AT&T and was allowed to return into the fire zone. He brought his truck and filled it with all of our football equipment that survived in the school lockers; helmets, pads, pants, and uniforms. We had a meeting at a local golf club, owned by another coach. I remember the varsity head coach giving my crying mom a hug and shaking my dad’s hand. The coaches let us know that we would practice that week and hopefully play a game the next. However frantic the effort, I was thankful that soon I would have a purpose in my new life, a goal that I could work towards.

   That week, we practiced Monday through Friday at El Molino High School, a high school in West Sonoma County. Rancho Cotate, our league rival, offered to let us practice and lift weights on their campus. The next week, we played a game versus Rancho Cotate at their school. I remember being a captain along with two other boys on the team who lost houses. I was a starter that game and was thankful for the chance to be able to take my mind off of my family’s situation.

   We returned to classes about two weeks after the fire. We were split by class into four different churches in every part of Sonoma County. The sophomore class ended up at Our Lady of Guadalupe Catholic Church, in Windsor, a town about ten minutes North of Santa Rosa. I had trouble concentrating. I struggled to find the meaning in school when my family had just lost everything that meant home to us. However, I managed to maintain my grades by working after school with teachers and friends. I often would stay after school to work with my chemistry teacher, Mrs. Riccio. I managed to obtain a “B” in that class, even though it remains one of the hardest classes I’ve ever taken. We stayed there until mid January, when our campus was ready for us to return, complete with about twenty new portable classrooms. During this time, my family was living in a converted barn in a vineyard in West Sonoma County. This was the first of two rentals we stayed in until we rebuilt our home.

   Almost two years later, I am writing this essay. We are back in our rebuilt house, which was completed about two months ago, at the time of writing. Our family returned a few weeks ago from a six-day mandatory evacuation due to yet another wildfire, the Kincade Fire, which came within miles of our new house. I am a better person for the experience of losing my home and most of my high school. I know can deal with any circumstance, I have the skills and resources to endure even the worst of hardships.