I grew up in the Palisades and planned to raise my kids in the community I loved. Our house burned down and we don't know what's next.

• Alisa Wolfson's family lost their home in the Pacific Palisades to the LA wildfires.
• They have been staying in hotels while they figure out their next steps.
• The impact of climate change and insurance issues are prompting them to consider leaving California.

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Alisa Wolfson, a journalist living in the Pacific Palisades with her husband and two daughters, ages 7 and 10. They evacuated on January 7 and subsequently lost their home in the LA fires that swept through Southern California. The following has been edited for length and clarity.

I grew up in the Palisades, and I've seen countless fires in surrounding areas. Usually, when fires start in the Santa Monica mountains and head toward the Palisades, they're always able to extinguish them.

On Tuesday when I was leaving my house, I thought we'd be back that night, so I didn't grab anything other than my laptop and our passports. If I'd thought that there was any chance something like this could happen, I would've grabbed as much as I could, even strapping things to the roof of my car.

The next day, when I found out our house was gone, I was in complete shock. I keep closing my eyes and going room by room through my house, picturing how everything was. To think that none of it exists anymore is… I haven't found a profound enough word. "Devastating" and "unfathomable" don't do it justice.

Everything we own is gone

I felt like our house was a fortress; it was so well-built and sturdy. Before we found out, my husband had even said, "I wouldn't be surprised if our house was the only one still standing."

One of our neighbors was able to bike to our street and sent pictures and videos to the group text. Miraculously, two homes across the street from me are still standing. They're the only ones left on the block, and their hedges are still green.

I recognized our driveway, our lime tree — still with limes on it — and a white cement wall in front of our house that had turned brown with soot. Everything else was unrecognizable. We had two vintage cars in our garage — a '57 Chevy that was built like a tank and a '69 Jaguar — and there's no more evidence of them. They're just dust.

Every single possession that I have — that I had, rather — is gone, and I wasn't able to save any of it. Our entire lives that were in that house are gone. The magnitude of what that means and its permanence feels so unexpected and unfair.

I'm so sad that I didn't bring a basket of old home videos of my dad, who passed away when our oldest was only 10 months old. My mom's house also burned down, so we have no family heirlooms left. People say, "You still have plenty of years left to start collecting," but it's not the same as having your grandmother's silver that was used at all of the family get-togethers and celebrations.

We're fortunate to have the means to stay in a hotel

People online have been saying things [about Palisades] like, "They're rich. They'll rebuild and don't need any assistance." I don't take it personally. Unless it's happened to you, it's virtually impossible to relate to.

We're fortunate to have the means to stay in a hotel right now — first the Beverly Hilton, and we moved to the Fairmont Century Plaza on Wednesday, as it's across the street from my husband's office and around the corner from the Westfield Century City Shopping Centre.

Just about every other hotel guest I've seen is in the same boat. There's something strangely comforting about knowing we're not the only ones, that there's a larger community that's all grieving the same type of loss.

We're taking it an hour at a time

There's a long road ahead. The rental market is already insane. There are a limited number of rentals, and everyone's in line for the same properties. I'm sure there will be price-gouging and greedy people who want to get as much money as they can when they lease their homes out.

We've had friends and family from all over the country reach out and offer to have us stay with them. One offered us their condo in Sun Valley — an incredible offer, but uprooting ourselves feels like it'd be too much change so quickly.

Family friends have a horse property in the Palisades and have graciously offered us one of their little guest cottages. We're waiting to see if it survived. If so, we'll go there temporarily because it's somewhere our daughters are familiar with.

Otherwise, we're looking into potential long-term hotel stay-type places. Really, we're just taking things day by day. We're booked at this hotel through the weekend on Monday as of now. We could extend here, but we might benefit from having a little more space, especially with the dog.

My husband and I both grew up in the Palisades and bought our home there in 2018. We love our neighborhood and its strong sense of community. Now, moving away from California is on the table.

Climate change is real. Fires are becoming more frequent and more intense, and nobody wants to insure homes in California anymore. Ironically, just last month, State Farm sent us a notice that they wouldn't be renewing our fire insurance policy. Fortunately, we're covered through April. We've filed a claim with our insurance and are waiting to have a subsequent call with an adjuster.

I want to incorporate as much normalcy as possible

I've only cried once so far today. I don't know if things are settling in and becoming more real; perhaps we're falling into our own little routine at the hotel.

A family that we know happens to be staying in the room next door, and our daughters are very happy at the thought of doing cartwheels up and down the hallway together because that's what makes them feel normal right now. All I can hope for is that my girls continue to have those brief moments and glimmers of hope.

I'm trying to incorporate as much normalcy as possible where I can, not that there's really much to be had. I have a hard time accepting things from people because I'd rather be helping, but I've had to do away with that mindset and just accept the help.

Last night, I sent my daughters home with one of my best friends. She made them dinner and tasked them with some babysitting duties to make them feel like they were needed. She took them to get ice cream afterward and even brought me a scoop when she dropped them off.

It's those kinds of things that are really keeping us going.