Fort McMurray homecoming like walking into 'a void of time I can't recall'
Essential workers get first glimpse of what it's like to live in Fort McMurray after the fire
The only experience more strange than seeing what's stayed the same, is seeing what's different. Eerily empty streets. Uncut grass growing to eight inches on neighbours' lawns. Burnt trees. And a line of charred soil, that reaches too near to Nick Socholotiuk's front door.
"We didn't know how close we came to getting burned," he said from his basement suite in Parsons Creek, a neighbourhood on the north side of Fort McMurray.
I don't know what tomorrow's going to be. But I'm glad we're back.- Nick Socholotiuk
Socholotiuk and his wife Kathy spent a restless night here, 24 hours before the official re-entry date. They came back to help with restoration, under a special security clearance marked by green plastic wristbands that look like tickets to a festival.
Maybe if they squinted hard and listened to people talk about their excitement more than their misgivings, they might have been able to pretend that's where they were.
But once RCMP waved them through the checkstop, the couple's anticipation turned to tears.
'I don't know what tomorrow's going to be'
They drove straight to their house. Then they sat in the driveway for a long while, not moving.
"I'm grieving all over again," Socholotiuk explained. The fire was a month ago. But this was the first time it felt real.
"Finally I said 'Kath, we gotta go in and face this'."
The couple was astonished to find their home totally unchanged, needing no cleaning save for the fridge.
Like thousands of Canadians, they moved here for jobs — looking for "a little more" than the hand-to-mouth existence they eked out raising their three kids in Waterford, Ont.
Nick was 52 and Kathy was 49 when they decided to move here. They had just celebrated their 30th wedding anniversary. Kathy made up her husband's mind when she told him simply "something needs to change."
Now, four years in to building their new northern Alberta life, this change is bigger than they could have imagined. They feel they're starting over, again.
"It's like a void of time I can't recall," he says of the days that passed since his family grabbed what they could and fled the fire.
"And I don't know what tomorrow's going to be. But I'm glad we're back."
Hugs for handshakes
Officials have warned the 15,000 people expected to return Wednesday not to expect the town they remember.
Most will already be set up to camp in their homes; carrying the recommended checklist of flashlights, prescriptions, and enough water and food for two weeks.
They also need full fuel tanks, boots, cleaning kits — and a lot of patience.
It will take time to read through the inch-thick instruction booklet from the province, to get their gas and hot water switched back on, to clean up what needs it, to recognize their city again.
To heal.
Proof that's already happening though, can be found in other things that have changed.
That first night, the Socholotiuk's met a coworker who refused a handshake. He offered a hug instead.
"This is what we do here now," he told them.
Hours later, someone added a word to the town sign.
Welcome "home," Fort McMurray.
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