We had an earthquake in my neck of the woods yesterday.
I have lived in California all of my life and suffered through more earthquakes than I care to remember. They're sneaky little devils. They come with no warning signs.
My middle sister broke a couple ribs during the 1994 earthquake.
She has always been the type to panic first and think last.
At the time she lived in a very cool, Turn-of-the-Century house that she and her husband had gutted and were remodeling. They were living in the house while it was under construction. The earthquake hit and my sister attempted to make a mad dash from her bedroom, wearing only socks and not much else. She had just gotten out of the shower and was getting dressed when the shaking started. She stumbled towards her daughters room in a complete and utter state of panic, screaming and babbling that they were all going to die. She almost made it. On the way she bounced off a desk in her path, sliding and skidding on the smooth wood floors all the way to the staircase where she executed a perfect swan dive right off the edge and down the stairs, falling in a nearly naked crumpled heap at her surprised husband and daughter's feet. During the remodel they had removed the railing and there was nothing in its place to stop her. Her husband took her to the hospital where she was patched up by the doctors in the emergency room. I think she was given a lifetime supply of Xanax that day.
I think about that every time an earthquake happens since then.
Fortunately nobody was hurt in yesterday's earthquake and everybody and everything is fine.
I don't think I will ever get used to them. They get to me every time.