Describe a piece of news you remember

The piece of news that's stuck with me most vividly wasn't actually anything global — it was a wildfire that broke out about forty kilometres from where I grew up, back when I was seventeen. I heard about it on the car radio, of all places, on the way back from a friend's house, and the reporter's voice had this urgency to it that made me turn the volume right up. It happened over a particularly dry August, apparently started by a spark from farm machinery, and it spread faster than anyone had predicted because of the wind that week. I remember it so clearly partly because my aunt's town was one of the ones being evacuated, and for about six hours nobody in the family could get through to her on the phone, which is a specific kind of helpless waiting I hadn't experienced before. She was fine in the end — she'd left before the fire got anywhere near her street — but those hours genuinely changed how I think about news. Up until then I'd sort of treated the news as background noise, something adults had on in the kitchen, and that afternoon was the first time it felt like it was actually about my life rather than someone else's. I still think about it whenever there's a heatwave now, this low hum of unease that wasn't there before, and I suppose that's the real reason it's stayed with me rather than the event itself.