Lost "Never Forgotten"

Some who read this may be sensitive to its contents relating to loss and fire.

This story is supposed to be in reference to the massive natural disaster occurring in January 2025 in LA, California. Many lost everything in the fires that raged generational homes and destroyed family heirlooms. I hope to use part of the prize money to go towards those who are fighting to find hope and rebuild. 

Lost “Never Forgotten”

The fire blazed around the ring, lying neatly on the dresser. The light shining off the ring was blinding as the room melted around it. An inscription visible to read "Never Forgotten" is etched on the inside of the gold band. As the fire ate away at as much as it could, the gold fell lost among the ash floor. 

I never thought it would be me. Every day, I wore that gold ring until one day, when I left my home, unsure if I would ever see it again. 

The sun shone high in the sky as I awoke to the blaring sound of my alarm. As I dragged myself from my sleep, I turned off my alarm, stretching wide as the sun began to shine into the room. I brushed my teeth and dressed on a somewhat ordinary day, yet I forgot one crucial thing. 

I left the door sweeping closed behind me as I ran to my car. I was late again; it's been a bad habit. I got to my car and drove away from my home. One last look at the house in my family for generations. A small winding porch built by my great grandfather, the blue door my grandmother insisted on, as she hated the old red paint my great great grandfather had. The walls were the most beautiful wood gradient, hand cut and carried from my great great great grandparents' hands.

This reminded me of a time when I was a child pulling up to my grandmother's home. I practically ran from the car before the wheels stopped rotating. My grandmother was already at the door, arms out wide, ready to greet me with her signature gold ring on her finger. As I hugged my grandmother, I felt content and at home. 

I was at work when the blaring alarm rang through our devices. A fire had broken out, and the winds carried it towards the homes, my home. I sat stunned, unaware of what to do, as my hand trembled to get my keys. What should I do? Can I even go get anything? My coworker turned on the news, waiting anxiously for information.

Stay and Wait. That is all that they said to do as I saw videos of homes burning. My things, what would I do, and what about the house? This house has been in my family for several generations, going back hundreds of years. I looked down at my purse and gym bag—the only two things I seemed to have. So many memories will be gone—pictures, crafts, jewelry. I can't imagine how much will be lost.

The earliest memories I have are of that home. I remember running up and down the long wooden hall filled with joy and laughter. My grandmother's face, wrinkled with age but the most beautiful face I had ever seen, smiled wide. We played in the pool, swimming the summers away. We ate plate after plate while watching more movies than I can remember. I was lost within the walls of that home. Every dinner is spent surrounded by those who love and care for me. 

I can never get back some memories from that house, including the ring. I looked at my finger, hoping the ring would sit on it. I saw my bare hand, and dread filled my stomach. It was gone, along with everything else I had. It was utterly irreplaceable. 

It was five days before I could return to the ash that was once my home. I saw the life surrounding me gone and barren land left in its place. I could barely move, unsure if I could fall and blow away along with the ash. The loss felt overwhelming as I forced my feet through the door and frame, with no need for keys anymore. My once two-story home was now only a floor as I scoured for anything that could have survived the blaze.

Was it my attempts to lessen my grief, as I hoped for anything to be left? If I had, I would have been one of the ones who had not lost. I was confused about why they were so lucky to still have everything. As I was walking through the rubble, I came upon the tree that had been burned half to ash. A broken swing sits at the base as a reminder.

The day my grandmother died, I can not say I remember much from the ceremony. But I remember the rush to my home to collect what should be mine. As a child, I would ignorantly ask what I could have. As for when she is gone, what will she leave me? The one item I always dreamed of is her ring. The ring was passed from her grandmother as a gift from her grandfather. It was their fifth wedding anniversary and one of a kind. He made it himself when he had nothing to afford and gave it to her before leaving. "Never Forgotten" in an attempt to have her remember him, no matter what. They had one small child, my great-grandfather, who would eventually get the ring. Then my grandmother, then straight to me. 

Every day, I wished to never have that ring on my hand, and I wanted everything to see it in my grandparent's home again. 

As I got to her home that day, I ran to the jewelry box and grabbed her ring. I went to the swing, imagining her as the one to push me. Every day since, I have awoken and put on that ring, but not that day. 

I was returning to the car, one of the only things not lost, when something shined from the corner of my eye. The gold was unmistakable, and I went to get it from the ash floor. The engraving, "Never Forgotten," is still readable on the inside of the ring. I slipped it onto my finger and proudly clenched my fist in celebration. I had lost everything, but not everything. 

While many things were lost and presumed to be never found again, Finding light at the end of the dark path was unthinkable. Finding a family heirloom that meant so much, irreplaceable, alive through the blaze reinstated my feelings. Cherish things for one person's world may be gone in a moment. But my memories and the things that matter the most will persist through even the harshest blazes.