When Chelsea was 3 years old, and we had just moved from Mill Valley to Tiburon, she walked up to me as I sipped coffee in the dining room and asked, "Mama, do you remember our old house?" As a mom, I knew she probably missed our Mill Valley house and asked her if she would like to drive past our old home to say goodbye. She shook her head at me with pity and exasperation and said, "No, Mama, not THAT house... our OLD house - the big white one that burned up in the fire!" I was worried that my tiny girl was having such frightening dreams. How could such a young, innocent toddler know about house fires? I asked her more about it, but she was bored with the topic I clearly knew nothing about, and she went back to playing. I always pictured the big white house as a pillared, southern mansion, or some similar past life experience. Now, I'm wondering if she saw a big, old, white warehouse... in her future.
This photo was taken near the end of the long night. The fire was nearly out. That is Chelsea's car parked right in front of the only exit from the Ghost Ship Warehouse. There were rumors that some of the performers had taken off in a car with Johnny Igaz. Sabrina and I held out hope that she'd escaped with him until we saw her own car parked out front. Chelsea was a fighter; if anyone made it out, she would have. The rumor was untrue; neither she nor Johnny drove away. Sabrina and I stood in the cold, choking on the toxic smoke for 4 hours as the fire continued. Lost. Suffering.
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