I love to take a peek outside my window when I wake up, especially on bright summer mornings. Today was odd. The sky was a murky yellow, with hues of orange and red. I stepped out in my backyard to understand what I was seeing. The smell of smoke gave away to what was happening. The wildfires have taken over the skies. They have not only burnt acres of land but have corrupted the air, making breathing – the only difference between life and death – dangerous. A thick blanket of smoke and dust had become our ‘new’ sky, the yellow being the evidence that we weren’t yet disconnected from the sun even though the sun had surrendered to clouds of ash.
It wasn’t an apocalypse but it certainly felt like one.
I immediately looked up the Internet for news on the wildfires. Cities across the state had blood orange-red skies, ever so unbelievable. I had to step out for some errands but, quite honestly, I was eager to see what the city looked like. As I drove down to the grocery store, I felt I was on another planet – a planet where the sky and everything it harbors is yellow, orange, and gray. The scene reminded me of one of those Instagram filters. The mask was not just for coronavirus on that day or for the coming days. Breathing clean, breathing free has become a thing of the past, I thought.
Everyone was going about their day. Everyone was scared. Everyone woke up to the fact that climate change is real.
Back home, as my daughter watered the plants, I wondered what they – the plants – would make of this sunless day in summer. In my backyard, the tomato plant is bearing fruits, the orange blossoms will flower in a few weeks, the chillies are almost ready to be plucked, and the zinnias have a long way to go. The baby pigeons have just taken their first flight from the nests their parents build every year in the backyard. Would they think that this is normal – a murky, choked, ashed world? The crimson tree I admire every day for its dramatic contrasts against a white, sunny sky isn’t enchanting anymore.
Those end-of-the-world movies I mocked for being too fantastical to believe now seemed to have become a reality – a terrifying reality. I was looking forward to the night sky. That would be the only part that would feel normal.
