Humbling

We had a prairie burn on Sunday.  Gil had always organized them in the past, lined up the people and waterpacks; I'd made the food and manned the "flapper" or fire rake.   Somehow I just didn't hear back from many folk, and the places he'd borrowed the packs from in the past didn't respond either.
Sunday seemed calm, we had barely enough folk and then 2 didn't show up, barely enough waterpacks and then a couple malfunctioned, our burn meister's plan was perhaps misguided
and then the wind came up and changed direction.
As the fire took off, I was so focused on saving my neighbor's woods that I sent everyone over to help contain that boundary.  I was alone, surrounded by fire with only a rake.
It's times like this when I realize how easy it is to be a fool, full of pride "we've had 15 successful burns in the past", impulsively responding to the immediate and losing the big picture.
I was very dehydrated which seems to be associated with my vertigo, surrounded by smoke, and I panicked.  "Call the fire department!!"  I crumpled, couldn't stand up any more.

I learned a lot. I have a visceral understanding of what needs to be prepared to be safe. I'm more willing to go ahead and be a bossy broad and say I don't feel comfortable with the plan.  But mostly, I feel humble.  In the face of big forces, of which FIRE and Gil's death are only 2 of so many, I am small, small, small.  Which is just fine. I am not responsible to make everything turn out right; I'm responsible to learn as fast or slowly as I can, to deal with the consequences, and to keep trying.  
And to drink enough water.
I'm missing the guy.