Passing under a doorway, I start shaking while the house is quaking. Dare I run to get the dog who is barking at the front door or stay here where it’s safer?
Things are falling off the shelves. The little ice fishing figure I bought after going ice fishing falls and it’s head breaks off.
I panic. My daughter, who gets hysterical if her gazpacho isn’t tangy enough laughs, saying, “Mom, calm down, it’s just an earthquake.”
Then, though my hands are still trembling, the earth has stilled.
The construction guys pour out of the house next door. The neighbor across the street, whom I’ve never seen, comes out and says “Is it ok to go in?”
“No,” I yell, “stay under the doorway.” The construction guys laugh.
It’s like after a blizzard in my quiet D.C. neighborhood, everyone is out.
My daughter goes on Facebook and learns of all her schoolmates who are in D.C. Everyone is posting.
Her aunt on Long Island tells her Cousin, there’s an earthquake. Cousin says, “No, Mom, it’s your pacemaker.”
My oldest Eliza tweets link to FEMA.
But I’ve already been there, having Googled what to do during an earthquake.
Venturing out on our bikes now to get shoes repaired. Life goes on.
What a fun way to turn an ordinary day into an adventure, even for a worrywart.