Five months ago, we left our home with nothing but the clothes on our backs. I stood in the kitchen, staring out the window as flames raced down the mountainside toward our neighborhood. In a blur, I grabbed my keys and rushed to pick up Luca from school, my mind laser focused on one thing. Get my babies in the car and go. Even as we drove away, I still believed we would be home by the afternoon. That this would pass, and we’d return to find everything as we left it. But that day marked the end of one chapter of our lives, a chapter we never expected to close so suddenly. We lost everything we ever owned. Since then, life has been split into two parts: before the fire and after. I’ve cycled through every emotion imaginable. So much grief over losing family photos, my grandmother’s heirlooms, the jewelry samples I spent over ten years making. All gone in an instant. The physical things that carried so many stories and memories are no longer here. But through the loss, there is also clarity. What matters most was never lost. My babies are safe, healthy, and thriving. We’ve landed in a beautiful new community surrounded by kindness and stunning nature. Somehow, in losing everything, we’ve found everything.