Living in Valley Glen, right in the middle of the San Fernando Valley, we’ve seen our share of intense weather—scorching summers, windy days, and the occasional earthquake shake. But the first weeks of January 2025 were different. It wasn’t just another windy day. It was the kind of wind that made you stop and take notice.
On January 7, the power went out at home, and outside, the wind was relentless—gusts up to 80 mph shaking the windows and whistling through the doors. We knew fire season had extended beyond the usual months, but with winds like these, all it took was one spark.
A Weekend of Uncertainty
From then on, anytime we were awake, we were glued to Watch Duty, tracking every fire update. We packed a go-bag just in case, knowing that if an evacuation order came, we wouldn’t have much time to think. Our dog, Teddy, could sense something was off—pacing, watching us, not understanding but definitely picking up on our unease.
By the weekend, multiple fires were spreading across Southern California. The Palisades Fire was the biggest concern at first, exploding near Pacific Palisades and quickly burning thousands of acres. At one point, it looked like it might move into Encino, which would have put the whole valley at risk. Thankfully, that didn’t happen, but we still felt the impact as major freeways shut down in both directions.
Then came the others. The Hurst Fire flared up north of us, cutting off routes in that direction. Meanwhile, the Sunset and Sunswept Fires started burning south of us, closing off access that way. It was an unsettling feeling—knowing that if an evacuation was ordered, traffic patterns and road closures might turn an already stressful situation into a logistical nightmare. Some family and friends urged us to leave early just in case, and we even looked into it, but ultimately, we stayed put. It was reassuring to see how many hotels and services were offering assistance to those affected (though we also heard Airbnb wasn’t the easiest to deal with).
A Strange Sense of Normalcy
The weirdest part? Life outside of the fire zones continued as if nothing was happening. People were going about their days (especially given the new normal of remote work culture) while we sat there wondering if we’d have to leave behind everything we’ve built—our home, our neighborhood, all the little things that carry meaning.
We were lucky. The fires never got close enough to force us out, but so many others weren’t as fortunate.
Now that the fires are out, the focus is on recovery. Thousands of people lost homes, and entire communities are figuring out how to rebuild. It’s been a sobering reminder of how fragile everything can be, but also how much people come together in times like this. The relief efforts, fundraising, and community support have been incredible to see.
We made it through unscathed, but our hearts are with those who didn’t.
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