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Emerging at ease from the spell
Kootenay Crust by Ian Cobb
Op-Ed Commentary
It’s been a little over one month since we received our occupancy permit from the Regional District of East Kootenay and moved into our new house.
You would think there would be celebrations. But not immediately. There has been a systematic re-awakening to everyday, ‘normal’ life’ – a spell that did not snap until last Saturday when we held an open house with friends and family.
When we excitedly stepped into our brand new home back in May, our voices echoing in the spaces about to be filled, it had been 677 days since we had been ‘home.’
A fun trip to the Columbia Valley to see friends and spend quality time with our granddaughter and her cousin July 12, 2024, was cut short when Carrie answered her phone and shouted, “What?” It was a call from the Cranbrook Fire Department informing her our house was on fire.
By the time we returned to our Gold Creek home, the fire was mostly extinguished and a large chunk of the house was literally toast. Smoke and water did the rest of the damage, but thanks to the fire department’s swift arrival, the surrounding forest and neighbours’ homes were spared that damned hot July day.
Every day after that one has been a slog; a hazy grind. One step forward, two steps back, eyes crossing from small print and minds bulging from nearly the entire array of emotions human beings can experience. Chief among them: frustration; confusion; despair; incredulity; the pleasant surprise of forward motion; and snarling impatience.
All that needed to be mentally and emotionally unwound and unravelled and it was a process of elimination all through the nearly two-year process.
Some therapy, good friends’ help and words and rubber tire adventures played a huge role in me not going full Hulk over any one of many dozens of WTF moments, such as how we had to remove Carrie’s late mom’s rose bush, which survived the fire and demolition and stood to be the foundational piece of an eventual re-establishment of a yard around the house-to-be.
The bush was a considered a fire threat, even though it sat about 20 feet from the house. It was removed, along with more than a dozen other trees, for the admittedly wise point of being FireSmart.
The day after the rose bush was yoinked from its home the past 30 or more years, we got word it could stay. It was hastily re-planted but it seems the damage was done. Alas.
That wasn’t as goofy as having to get an easement, so we didn’t sue ourselves by using our own driveway (the property is in two lots and the driveway crosses both).
We had to bury power lines and build a new septic field and many other smaller things, all while generally flying by the seat of our pants and working with New Dawn Developments on the creation of a new house on the old foundation.
The details that Carrie balanced in her head would have crushed mine.
Helping guide us along the way with advice and a shoulder was our friend Loree, whose own time spent stickhandling through the intricacies of insurance and process after her own property disaster more than tripled ours.
We’ve found since the fire that there is a form of club out there, unofficial, with people who have been through house and property disasters. A common bond of knowing what it is like to start completely over or becoming snagged on the PTSD you don’t realize you’re experiencing at the time.
The slog wasn’t all horrible. We were lucky to have a good insurance policy. We know of several people who have suffered the torments of the damned in comparison. There could and should be a career in guiding people through such insurance claims and situations.
Out of the dull gray wait came a blast of sunshine (but more rain, really).
Thanks to timing that allowed us to find a temporary home for Carrie’s Pa, and Carrie’s amazing ability to collect credit card points and compile hotel card points, we were able to flee to Italy for six weeks last December and January. It was the only time from the fire to this morning, when Carrie and I had coffee on our front deck, listening to the birds, that we felt completely at ease.
Our adventures in Rome, where we became immersed in a neighbourhood and lived ‘normally’ by working in the daytime, making dinner, going for walks to world famous historical treasures and hanging out at a favourite pub, was a lifetime experience and privileged catharsis, admittedly.
There was no ‘have to do’ beyond the normal stuff. The freedom of everyday life – of normalcy returned, but only briefly. It left a longing that made the final leg of waiting for the house to be finished so agonizing.
So, when we walked into our new house over a month ago, we didn’t celebrate. If anything, we felt awkward, like we didn’t deserve this beautiful new home.
Each morning, we awake thinking, ‘this is the best Air BnB we’ve ever stayed at’ and then look out the window to see the torn-up yard, still producing screws, nails, glass and sundry debris from the old house demolition.
The disbelief and surrealism all came to a halt last Saturday when a number of friends and family members came by to help us warm the place up.
I’ve had numerous ‘house-warming parties’ in my lifetime but none ever warmed me so, or brought me out of a spell, as that one. From Carrie and I, thank you to everyone who popped by and to everyone who helped guide is through this time of our lives.
A simple reminder that all is as good as you see it so, long as you let go of the past.
Let it lie with the rubble and rise from it. Like the Romans have done – build on top of it.
Together with gratitude…
– Ian Cobb is the owner/editor of e-KNOW
