With the wildfires in southern California, I couldn't help thinking of another wildfire, much closer to home.

In the summer of 2002, my daughter was going to go to Mile High Girl Scout Camp. She had previously gone to the YMCA camp in Deckers, but for some reason chose the other camp that year, which was good.

When all the wildfires started, we weren't sure that she would be able to go to camp, but for some reason, the week she went was the week the camp was open. There was only the threat that the camp might be affected.

She enjoyed the camp, although there was a distinct smell of smoke from the fire in Deckers and there was a plume of smoke in the distance. Other campers were not so lucky as the camp closed on and off during the summer. But the worst was yet to come.

June 8 the Hayman fire started with the burning of a letter in a campfire circle. Before it was over, 133 homes were lost, 1 commercial building and 466 outbuildings. 138,000 acres were involved, although all did not burn or burned in what was termed "a low beneficial intensity fashion."

I remember watching the fire from a distance. Being "safe" in my home in Village 7, I could see the plume of fire by day and the glow of the fire by night. No matter where I went in Colorado Springs, I could smell the burning.

I had seen house fires before, but I have never seen anything like the Hayman wildfire.

In an area where the fire was contained, I was asked to come in with some of the firefighters to document the area. It is one thing to see a smaller fire, where a house is destroyed, but I had never seen anything like this.

We entered the fire zone. It was strange to just foundations of houses or chimneys sticking up out of charred ruins. Trees were burned halfway up the trunks. Yet feet away, a picnic table is untouched. Trees were not even singed.

As I looked at the houses left in ruin, I couldn't but help think how would I feel if my house burned down? How would I feel is I lost those things I couldn't get out in time. I know that getting out with your life is the most important, but there are those things you would miss: grandma's quilt, photos from your child's first Christmas, that special something from your wedding.

I have heard victims of fire say they will just start over and I applaud their determination. I hope that under similar circumstances, I would be able to do the same.

So this week, seeing southern California up in smoke, I can't help thinking about the Hayman fire and hoping that my cousin and her family in Escondido make it out safely.