Dear House,

You must have been laughing that the fire debris clearing happened on April Fool's Day. I look happy in this photo, I know. But please don't think it means I don't still miss you madly, deeply.

(Also, I'm not making light of things with the caption "HOME." My phone did that.)

This was at the end of the day. The Army Corps had just left. I had changed clothes in the car for dinner. I only found one sock. Two boots, one sock. It affected me because shit like that which used to roll of my back, can really throw me off. It's annoying, particularly since there is really rarely cause for such consternation. I found the sock later that night.

See what I mean? I really miss you.

Neighbors came by to mark the end of this momentous day and took this pic.

Why am I smiling? Because the eighteen truckloads of weight were lifted and made to float away, away, away. The heavy ash, rusty nails and twisted metal were lifted up and into trucks and carried off into the sunset. The treasures transformed by fire into unintelligible or invisible forms - gone.

But it doesn't mean I still don't love you and all that you held.

I just felt guilty every time I visited you, that I should be sifting through more to find the gems, the unbroken and broken. Early on I wanted to just release it all, as if it had left nothing to be found.

I also felt guilty being far away from you.

The day was quite joyous really. The crew was so professional, kind, thoughtful. We met the night before. Colonel Sonny, whose in charge of the Eaton Fire for the Army Corps came to visit. Stella loves him as much as all us humans do. He loves his crews too. When I told them how great they were in every way, he had a proud papa glint in his eyes and confirmed he knew of their amazingness.

I hope you felt it. You know Don who ran the excavator? He worked like a veteran surgeon, didn't he? He looked like he was playing "Operation" - that game from my childhood - as if the excavator shovel were a tiny surgical instrument excising the problematic tiny organ. Exacting but also almost playful.

The people who got the debris tied down in the trucks in a tidy manner were great too. The truck drivers were so amazing too, right? Were they easy on the curves? Did they speed on the highway to your final resting spot?

Just wanted you to know I still think of you every day all day long in one way or another. And I still really love you.

The clearing is a sacred little spot where I can honor all the love you held. Hopefully with something quite beautiful.

That will be cause for more joy.

Love, love, love,

b.