‘I’ve noticed changes in all of us’: The LA fires put what really matters most into focus

A few weeks after the hardest school year of my life let out for summer, I went with my friend Celia back to the Palisades.

It was my first time going there since the January fires. As we drove in along the stretch of Pacific Coast Highway that had recently reopened to the public, I took in an unobstructed ocean view that only a few months earlier had been crowded out by houses. Now the buildings had all burned. Surreal is the only word to describe the experience.

Eventually we made our way up to the bluffs, where the neighborhood gets its name. Me, Celia and other friends from Palisades Charter High always used to hang out there.

I can remember the exact last time we met up at the bluffs. It was winter break, and I’d hugged everyone hard. I was saying goodbye because I was leaving to go on vacation with my family. I didn’t realize how much that goodbye would have to hold. The L.A. fires broke out while we were still traveling. On the flight back, I could make out the flames from my window.

Five of my seven closest friends lost their homes in the Palisades Fire. All of us have been scattered across schools and geography. There’s been a lot of shock to go around. But I think we’ve come out of this closer than ever. The fires really put what mattered into focus. Supporting each other through this time has made us all like family.

Because of COVID, I’d done remote schooling in fifth, sixth and some of seventh grade. For three months after the fire, it was more of that for those of us who decided to stay at Pali High since much of the campus was destroyed or damaged. That was bad.

But when the school finally re-opened in the old Sears department store in Santa Monica, things became worse. The building was hot and overcrowded, and the adults who were supposed to be helping us made me feel even more stressed out.

At that point, the only thing keeping me at Pali was my friends, but I was miserable. When I told them I was planning to switch schools in the fall to start 11th grade, they understood — a few of them had already moved schools themselves. 

Because some of my closest friends are graduating seniors, I’d gone into this year knowing that things were going to change when they left. The fires just sped up that timeline and made everything so much more extreme.

Even though my friends and I don’t get to see each other every day now, we’ve found ways to stay close. We call, do regular group FaceTimes and try our best to hang out at least once a week in person. It’s made a difference. I know the seniors won’t be able to do that next year because they’ll be in college. But because many of their homes burned down, they plan on coming back more to help their families resettle, so we’ll still see them. 

I’ve noticed changes in all of us since the fires. Once you experience loss like this, you get a different outlook on life. My guy friends talk more openly about their feelings. Even the typical “mean” girls, I’d say 90% of them are super nice now. Their houses burned down, too, so they have this whole new perspective. We’ve all just had to rethink what’s important.

I know I’ve started putting myself out there more. Even though I am more comfortable sticking to my core group of friends, I’ve been hanging out with new people when they ask. I don’t want to take anyone for granted.

While my friends and I don’t always bring up the fires, when we do, we usually talk about memories from before. Like when we all went to the beach and had a bonfire, or this time on the bluffs when my friend Wesley was spinning Celia in circles trying to get her to fly but ended up just dragging her across the floor. That always used to make us laugh.

Now the memory has become even more precious. I let myself remember it when I returned to the bluffs with Celia in the summer, a time that the fire could never take away.

This commentary was adapted from an essay produced for Zócalo Public Square.