Tonight, I experienced my first earthquake.
I wish I could tell you I handled it calmly. (I guess I did, outwardly.)(Besides finding cover after watching my apartment walls shake and twinkle lights sway with the seismic waves.)
So I crouched between the kitchen table and bar. And then my dog followed me, and proceeded to stand on his back legs and put his front paws on my shoulders. He was giving me a hug, sniffing my hair, licking my ear.
I felt stupid.
My dog thought it was a game, and I wondered if I'd had a psychological breakdown.
A minute later, back on my couch, I looked for information on whether we had an earthquake; I found nothing, and I seriously wondered about my sanity.
Then I looked on facebook. At least four different statuses from friends asked if others felt the quake, and I felt so relieved.
Guys: I'm not crazy.
I am, however, a huge chicken. I am somewhat afraid that a big one is on its way. My husband got home from work and didn't believe that there was an earthquake, and he laughed a bit at my numerous "what if" worries.
We then headed to the dog park, and while my dog ran around, my imagination went wild. Something like a fly stuck in a jar.
I could nearly feel the ground moving, giving me that dizzy feeling I had felt minutes ago. I could feel the old, familiar disorientation I felt as a child after spinning and spinning in circles until my very universe showed its true rotation, synced with the slow turn of the earth. I saw the tall, thin trees falling and the ground split wide in thick cracks. I wondered if the daylight would go away; perhaps the sun itself would fall from its suspension in the sky, like an overripe orange, and I'd hear its lazy, dull thud from miles away. And then darkness. Everywhere.
And that's when I realized I'd gotten carried away.
I watched Bagheera chew on small branches and chase other dogs. The daylight began to fade, and we headed back home.