In case you missed the news, we’ve had a few hundred tremors in southern California over the last 24 hours.
The first quake (a 7.2 out of Mexicali) started yesterday afternoon as I sat in my parent’s kitchen. What they don’t tell you about earthquakes is that in quiet open areas, you can hear them coming. My parents live on 8 acres surrounded by national forest. For a second or two, the earth sounds like an angry groaning ship and then gives way to deep rumbles. The cabinet doors shutter like knocking knees, the glass dishes inside shivering. My parents, husband, and I stared at the hanging lamp above my head swinging like a pendulum. Normally, and stupidly, we never run outside to safety. Most quakes last 5 seconds or less and it’s not worth the panic but as this one continued to roll under us like an ocean tide and the structure of my parent’s home started to pop loudly, we decided to wait it out on the front lawn. We felt the earth move on and off the rest of Easter Sunday.
This morning at 4:13, as I lie awake with the annoying pain of strep throat, my bed started to shake. I turned to kick my husband but quickly caught myself as I glanced at the ceiling fan above our bed and watched the swinging pull chains create dancing shadows across our wall. A 5.2 earthquake shook on the US side of the border. Our home creaked and shimmied as it adjusted to the new ground beneath it.
Ahh. Home sweet southern California home?
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