Suddenly, it started to shake. I could hear the windows shaking. I sat up. Still shaking, this time the shaking getting stronger. I started to wake my husband up. He sat up and the shaking still got stronger. TV turned off. I jumped up and told my older one to get up. The husband called out for the little one. We started to walk towards our front door. They came out with the househelp from the laundry room. The little one now being carried by my husband. Still shaking.
And then it stopped. It finally did.
"That was a long one" I told my husband.
I can't explain how much fear I still feel every time we experience aftershocks. The memory of that fateful day in July almost
When the shaking finally stopped, we all stayed in the living room for a while. My 5 year old asked me what that was and why I was so scared. Suddenly, my husband and I found ourselves sharing with him the experience we went through during the 1990 killer earthquake that hit our city.
He had a lot of "huwat's?!" and "ahh's!" and "oh's" while listening to me tell stories. And while I was telling him all about that experience, I too could not believe that all that happened. I realized how blessed I was. Many people died during that earthquake.
Although we were told that aftershocks were to be expected, for me, it never becomes "common." Each and every aftershock that came during the past 17 1/2 years still invokes fear. Especially now that I have children-- what if I am not with my children when there is another aftershock? What is it isn't just and aftershock? What if another earthquake comes?
We can never control Mother Nature.
Moments like this reminds me of how small we are in the universe. Moments like this reminds me that I am human. Moments like this makes me feel scared.