Ca lost her home. In a fire. Its all gone. Everything.
Ca is the daughter of one of my very nearest and dearest friends, (more like a surrogate sister actually.)
My heart is broken for Ca.
Yes, we have all tried to soothe her with platitudes of hope and gratitude that she was safe and unharmed. And yes, Ca. understands all that.
But she lost her home. HER HOME.
Ca is like her mother who is like me. WE LOVE OUR HOMES. Nothing is happenstance. We have painstakingly decorated every nook and cranny to reflect exactly who we are. This young woman had just begun her journey into "adulthood", "independence" "freedom of expression" with the purchase of her very first home.
Ca has always prided herself with liking the "finer" things in life. It was a source of amusement for all who know and love her. We often chided Ca about being a little "princessy" and having filet mignon taste on a hamburger budget.
So when I spoke to her this morning, I was surprised to hear her mourn the loss of "Wrinkles" above all else. Wrinkles? Yup. WRINKLES. A stuffed doggie given to her from her maternal Nonno when she was 3 years old who has since passed. "Everything else, I can replace." Sob.
In that moment, Ca WAS 3 again. I wanted to put on my Superman cape and fly around the earth and turn back time, if only to save Wrinkles. I wanted to crawl through my telephone line and hug her with all my might and tell her everything would be OK.
Sometimes being a grown-up sucks.
Ca will survive. Dare I say she may even be better, stronger, wiser.
Still, all in all, the whole situation just sucks.