LOS ANGELES — Eleven-year-old Ceiba Phillips was filled with disbelief upon returning to his Southern California community a month following a devastating wildfire that left his neighborhood in ruins.
The sight of his best friend’s home reduced to ashes, alongside memories of his cherished school, hit him hard. While his family’s house stood intact, the backhouse where his grandparents lived—and from which they packed his daily lunches—was nothing but smoldering remains and a pool of melted aluminum. His favorite diner, Fox’s, had also been annihilated.
Witnessing the destruction firsthand, after only seeing it through photographs, stirred a mix of emotions in Ceiba: shock, sadness, and even anger. “There’s not even a word created for it,” he expressed. “It’s sad, it’s heavy, somewhat angry. Why did this have to happen?”
The Eaton fire, which swept through Altadena on January 7, left parents and children to grapple with the emotional aftermath of one of California’s most destructive wildfires. As families begin the process of returning to familiar surroundings, many children are left to navigate their grief in the wake of lost landmarks and routines. Meanwhile, parents must figure out how to support their kids through these challenging times.
Children thrive on routine, and rebuilding a semblance of normalcy as soon as possible is crucial for their emotional well-being, according to Lori Peek, a sociology professor at the University of Colorado Boulder who studies the ramifications of natural disasters. Maintaining connections with friends and having open dialogues about the hardships they face are essential components of this process.
“Being honest about our own emotions and opening up, but then being very inviting for children to share what they’re feeling—what they’re grieving, what they’re experiencing—can be one way to start those really important conversations,” Peek noted.
In an effort to facilitate those conversations, Chiara Angelicola, who is involved in early childhood education, organized a unique event dubbed Kids Town Hall for families impacted by the fires. This gathering provided children with a platform to express their feelings while engaging in art and somatic therapy exercises that help address the physical effects of trauma. Ceiba’s 4-year-old sister, Quoia, attended the event with their mother, Alyson Granaderos, joining over a hundred other families.
“There were many kids who had a lot to share … and some of their expressions even made the adults uncomfortable,” Angelicola remarked. “I think learning to sit with discomfort is crucial for children because we show them that feelings won’t harm us.”
To further support the community, numerous therapists and non-profit organizations have stepped in to provide free mental health services to the wildfire victims.
Reflecting on their last normal day before the wildfire, Ceiba remembered the events clearly. The school day had been cut short due to strong Santa Ana winds that whipped through the area, so he and his sister headed over to visit his best friend, where they played on the trampoline and engaged in creative activities.
That evening, as they received alarming texts about a fire igniting nearby, the family rushed to their window to witness flames engulfing the mountainside. Ceiba recalled getting on the floor to pray, but his mother urged him to pack essentials quickly. In a flurry, he threw clothes and quarters into a bag for himself and his sister as they prepared to seek refuge in their father’s office nearby.
Despite their collective efforts, they awoke the next morning to a devastated neighborhood, with much of it in ruins.
Now, as Ceiba attends a new school in Pasadena, he is slowly reinstating a daily routine. Recently, he relayed to his mother an interesting tidbit he had learned in class about Abraham Lincoln’s near-participation in the disastrous Donner Party expedition in 1846.
Participating in band class, Ceiba has decided to take up the saxophone, while also diving into a school project on Michigan, his mother’s home state. Granaderos commented on how well her son seems to be adapting, but his conversations with friends have shifted to more serious topics typically outside the realm of 11-year-olds.
“The insurance isn’t covering us; how’s your house? How’s this person’s house?” he reflected on the discussions with his peers.
Despite the challenges, he remains optimistic about his community’s recovery. “I know Altadena, and I know that it’s going to stick together,” Ceiba affirmed.
Ceiba urged his mother to return to see their home right after the fire, but Granaderos had her concerns. She recognized that witnessing the aftermath was an essential part of the healing journey for her children.
“You’re facing this realization of certain conversations you have to start to have with your kid, right? There’s beauty in the world, and there’s also a lot of sadness and destruction,” she shared.
During one visit, Quoia became overwhelmed with emotion when they passed what remained of The Bunny Museum in Pasadena that was dedicated to rabbits. The giant inflatable bunnies that once greeted passersby are now a distant memory, bringing tears to both siblings.
Yet amidst the devastation, hope persists. Granaderos had named both her children after trees—Ceiba as the tree of life and Quoia after the resilient Sequoia. A sapling of the Sequoia, known for its resistance to fire, remains standing in their backyard, symbolizing strength and perseverance amidst the devastation.