I was having a lovely dream, the details are not important nor even remembered, but once my conscious brain realised that incessant ringing noise was actually the telephone I metaphorically shit my self.
Cause no good can come from a 4am call.
My first thought was one of my girls were hurt.
The mother of adult kids biggest fear.
It was MOTY. The fire we were vaguely monitoring the day before had turned and they were being evacuated and they were on their way over.
So many friends lost homes.
It is 4am and MPS and I are wandering around the house waiting for them to arrive.
It is 5am and they aren’t here yet.
They have no mobile reception out there.
I make plans in my head, worst case scenario.
And the longer that they take to get here, the worse the scenarios are in my head.
When they finally arrived, with the dog (who needs a fucking bath OMG) and the parrot and all the photos and the contents of the underwear drawer (because what do you pack when it is dark and you are running?) and NOT all the things remembered during the slow drive out, the sun had still not risen in the sky.
There is no smell of smoke.
No visual signs.
As the sun finally rises we see the plumes of smoke in the direction of their town.
The wind is now going in the other direction which is FABULOUS news for us. Not so much for other towns in the line of fire.
I end up going to work because what is the point just sitting here? Half the staff are absent, fighting or defending or just-in-casing.
Today is the day of the Big Move and the Restructure but the place is quiet save the fire update conversations and shouted announcements ‘I just spoke to so and so and they are OK!’
We all remember Black Saturday.
Even now still traumatised.
After hitting refresh four hundred million times on the Country Fire Authority website the threat is finally downgraded to ‘watch and act’ and my parents decide to go back home.
The threat has passed.
For them at least.