I remember the day I first set foot on my property in Malibu La Costa area, overlooking the vast Pacific. It was the early 1990s, and I was standing in the charred remains of a 1993 fire burnout. The ground was blackened, with nothing but chimneys, yet there was a spark of hope. I knew then this land came with both incredible beauty and undeniable risk. Five painstaking years later—after wrestling with permits, designing every detail, and choosing tile for a fire-resistant roof—I finally called that house my home. After 15 years of Malibu living, we decided to head south to Newport Beach. 

But this year, when I saw the harrowing images of the Palisades fire, it took me right back to that time. From the news footage, I recognized pockets of homes on Rambla Orienta—just a handful—that survived, mine included. I could see how one home remained unscathed, while its neighbor was reduced to ash. My heart sank for my old neighbors, imagining the anxiety of evacuation, the frantic scramble to gather passports, clothes, pets, and maybe a handful of precious photo albums. It’s always surreal to see people running down Sunset Boulevard, carrying dogs or cats in their arms, with nothing more than a small bag slung over their shoulder. It is a scene that breaks my heart every single time.

I’ve spoken to friends scattered across Southern California, many of whom were evacuated or displaced, their children worried about their schools, their sports teams, their futures. Beyond the structural losses and the financial burden, it’s the sense of community that feels most fragile. Neighbors become family in times like this, and watching that support system literally go up in flames can be emotionally devastating. Everyone leaving, some by car, some on foot—each story is its own heartbreak.

One question keeps coming up: “What about all the memories?” Not just the physical remnants—like photo albums passed down through generations—but the intangible pieces: the stories, the moments, the laughter. The reality is that in our rush to stay safe, we often leave behind the very objects that held our family’s history. That’s why I want to share something powerful I’ve discovered: Kwillt.

Think of Kwillt as a kind of digital scrapbook, but on a massive, crowd-sourced scale. You create what we call “Patches”—individual timelines or albums that can be public or private, where you and your family or friends can contribute photos, videos, and stories. Over time – and through the incredible power of community – you can stitch together a “Kwillt” of memories and moments that will be safely preserved for decades to come.

Imagine setting up a “Malibu Home” patch, inviting your old neighbors, friends, and family from across the country (and around the world) to upload pictures they have of your home—summer BBQ gatherings, holiday parties, the day your child took their first steps on that living room carpet. Or maybe it’s a “Kids’ Sports Team” patch, where all the parents from your children’s team contribute photos from practices and tournaments, even if the school building itself fell prey to the fire.

It’s in these moments we’re reminded just how fragile our connections to the past can feel. Flames may destroy walls and roofs, but what it really threatens underneath it all are the pieces of our lives that tell our story—the heirlooms, the photos, and the memories that make a house a home. While insurance can rebuild structures, there’s no replacing a faded family photo or the handwritten recipe cards from a grandmother who’s no longer with us.

The good news is that even if you lost every photo stored in boxes under the bed, your extended network probably has thousands of images – and they may even have another handwritten copy of that old recipe. They have pictures of you at birthday parties, school events, random beach days you’d forgotten about. By pooling these memories together in a Kwillt Patch, you start to rebuild a story you thought was wiped away—piece by piece, picture by picture.

Let your friends and family know you’d love for them not only to add photos and videos, but also the stories behind them. Adding dates, descriptive captions, and anecdotes helps provide context, enabling you to rebuild your life’s timeline in a more meaningful way. Whether it’s the story of how you spent a holiday together or a funny moment that happened at a family barbecue, those details turn each image into a living memory rather than just a snapshot in time.

This is why preserving those memories before disaster strikes is so critical. Today, we have tools like Kwillt that can help ensure those irreplaceable pieces of our history are safeguarded. With Kwillt’s platform, families can digitize and organize their photos, videos, and stories into secure, collaborative albums. These albums aren’t just the modern version of a fireproof safe—they become living archives of family history that can be shared and passed down through generations. It’s a way to ensure that even when the physical is lost, the legacy remains.

We often say, “It’s only stuff,” but deep down, we know the belongings we lose in a fire aren’t just stuff. They’re fragments of our story – and, at Kwillt, we are built on the belief that every life story deserves to be told. Rebuilding a life involves so much more than living in a new place. It’s not about putting up new walls or installing a new roof—it’s about remembering who you were in those walls, what you celebrated, and how you grew. It’s about preserving the sense of community, even when you’re all forced to scatter, maybe permanently for some families who decide to relocate for good.

Kwillt is a way to crowdsource the memories that have made you who you are, one cherished moment at a time, so that no matter where you end up—whether you rebuild on the same lot or move halfway across the world—your story remains intact.

To anyone reading this who has suffered the same heartbreak, my thoughts are with you. Having lived in wildfire country myself, I understand the sleepless nights, the evacuation plans, and the emotional toll of watching neighborhoods change forever. But I also know there is strength in community. My hope is that through Kwillt, you’ll find a way to restore the part of your life that can never be fully measured in square footage or building costs: your memories.

If you’re in the Los Angeles area and have been affected by any of these recent fires—or you simply want a safe place to store, collect, and celebrate the photos and memories that define your life—set up your Kwillt patch now.

Use partner code “Memory” for a free patch and start rebuilding your personal history today. Your story is waiting to be told, and Kwillt is here to help you piece it all together.