Lost Marshall Home

As many of you know my sister Megan Monroe and brother-in-law Brian Fuentes and their kids Rona and Rio lost their family home on Marshall Road in the Marshall fire a few days ago. Most importantly they are safe and in the arms of a loving circle of friends, family and community. They are in need of some basics like kitchen supplies, bed linens, towels, groceries, etc.

 

Those that have visited their Marshall home know it was not simply a structure but a dream. Megan wrote this about what it means to them:

 

Anyone who knows Marshall loves it for its character. They know it as a place. Sometimes we call it "Goulder”, not quite Boulder and not quite Golden, but a perfect blend of the two, perhaps. It's a community that has a history; an artsy (as we say, "Marshall Arts") community with a book club and kind hearted people who truly love the place they live and it's full of people who care for the land and the buildings left to us by previous generations.

 

We have felt fortunate to be part of the Marshall community. Brian bought our property in 2004, just before we met. Since that time we have poured our love into building what was, perhaps, a silly dream that our little token on this earth could lead by example and help create change, the change we so badly felt the world needed.

 

Our house was built by so many hands and hearts that shared the vision of a better world; we cannot even begin to thank everyone who contributed. And all we hope is that our little home, that home we poured our love into for nearly two decades inspired those that visited, rode their bikes or skied, ran, rollerbladed, skateboarded or unicycled down our road. (Oh the things you'd see on Marshall road!)

 

Our home was the mile marker for so many. A shady tree to stop under. People hid in our garage as storms blew over. And let's be honest, the bushes across from us was where way too many runners and cyclists stopped to pee (you know who you are!). We were "oh, that house.... the one with solar panels" high above on our tall gable. They were a symbol of change we hoped for. What many people don't know is that all our house needed was those panels and the occasional sunshine -no furnace or mechanical heat- to stay cozy. Our house used no gas. When the power went out the temperature didn't change. We fought to build that dream for over 10 years because we came from a very modest background but felt it our responsibility to build in a way that was the lightest on Earth as possible.

 

And when we saw the flames, we got our kids and pup and left. We didn't grab a single thing. We lost everything. The outfits we brought our babies home from the hospital in. The sweet evolution of drawings they created during their toddler years. The running journal we kept in our kitchen of adorable things they would say. The rocking chair Brian bought us when we were expecting - it was the first piece of furniture we bought for ourselves as we expanded from our 317 square foot studio we lived in for nearly 10 years. The wedding dress. The Christmas gifts we just gave the kids. My daughter's birthday presents for 7th birthday next week. And both Brian and I had recently received a trove of our baby pictures from our parents; the main majority of pre-digital photos of both of us just gone. The photos alone are a weird erasing of our past that I haven't come to grips with.

 

But alas, here we are, moving forward.

 

The night before, just hours before the fire started, we hung bookshelves in each of our kids' rooms. Our daughter wanted her new Amanda Gorman book displayed proudly after we had just read to her:

 

"I can hear change humming

In its loudest, proudest song.

I don't fear change coming,

And so I sing along."

 

So I hold hope that our silly dream is not entirely lost and that our kids can grow and hold it close to their hearts- and that each of you, those who Marshall touched, keep that dream alive too.