Earthquakes

We had an earthquake last night. It wasn't very big by any standards, clocking it at a M3.4, but with an epicenter only eight miles away, we felt it.

I heard the rumble, the rattle of glasses, and stood from my desk calling out for Joseph to meet me in the square space between our bedrooms and the bathroom that we've jointly decided was the safest during the drills Joseph makes us run. Elizabeth was curious and calm. Joseph was not.

In tears, he told me the top bunk had swayed and he'd been worried it was going to fall. He sobbed in my arms as I sat on the floor, legs braced between the two walls though the quake had ended almost as soon as it had begun.

I rubbed his back while explaining that it was not the biggest earthquake he's ever been in; he has just always slept through them. I kissed the top of his head and told him that in a normal situation, I wouldn't have even left my desk, but that I thought it was a good idea to put his drills into practice. I snuggled him until he stopped crying and then explained that it was scientifically impossible for him to be afraid of earthquakes. He is California born and bred. He wears flip flops and shorts in December. He loves avocados and green smoothies. He says dude.

He laughed at that.

We spent a few minutes trying to vote on the worst place to be during an earthquake. Sitting on the toilet won hands down, with in the shower coming in second. I explained that we can't stop life because there might be a quake. We need to use the toilet and take showers and not be afraid the ground might move beneath us.

After I got them tucked into bed, I started thinking about how much that applies to life. There is no question that there are quakes on the horizon. The only question is how big and what sort of damage it might cause.

My mom used to tell me that I could die in the living room so I might as well enjoy life and go out and do the things that scare me. Now while that advice is likely not the best to give to a ten-year-old girl with an overactive imagination who would spend the next three decades obsessively locking the door to her house and staring warily at overhead lighting fixtures, she had a good point.

We can't live life in fear, anticipating earthquakes.

Today, I kissed my gingers goodbye with fear in my heart. They're going on a field trip to see a play and I'm heading in the opposite direction for three days of kid-free camping on a cliff overlooking the Pacific.

The number of things that could go wrong as we hurtle through space clinging to this rock are legion: earthquakes, wildfires, alien abduction, broken hearts. But we can't live in fear or we won't live at all. We just have to smile and move forward, knowing that when the quakes hit, we can brace ourselves against the wall and ride them out, clinging to those we love.