I had lain down to rest off the last bit of a headache when I felt the bed moving and heard a rhythmic rattling of things on my shelf. I sat up, and figured right away it was an earthquake, but sat for a bit to think. Calling the girls and noticing the gentle shaking of the house, I headed downstairs and out the door. Once out, the shaking lessened and we heard helicopters flying around the local military base. Nothing out of the ordinary there, but had us wondering if the vibrations were thanks to them. But, hearing no muffled explosions, I walked back inside to find the house still quietly doing its little shimmy. Gradually, it faded.
Sure enough, amidst the flurry of twitter posts and facebook updates, I found the story: a 5.5 quake centered about 80 km from where we live. From twitter feeds I saw reference to the quake being felt in Boston, Montreal, Toronto, Windsor, even Illinois and Wisconsin.
The girls, while a little concerned during, also had that tinge of excitement that comes with realizing you're experiencing something new and potentially dangerous, while not being in danger yourself.
That was pretty much it.
I hope to never be in a serious quake. To have the ground under your feet, that solidity on which we so often depend, become itself unpredictable, is not a pleasant thing. And while it lends itself to many life illustrations and philosophy, I have to leave for band rehearsal soon.