Quake! As soon as I realized the earth was moving, I was in the bathroom like a shot. I knew the tub was not the place to be. It was under a bay window, there was a huge piece of glass right over their heads. Fortunately, we had practiced an earthquake plan, we had identified the safe places to be in a quake. Unfortunately, there weren't any safe places inside the house which is mostly windows. Big windows. In every room. And, smack dab in the middle, open on all sides, there's a big fireplace with a brick chimney. Our safe place was outside on our back patio, away from windows, glass, and bricks.

Angela scrambled out of the tub. She ran with Grandma safely to the picnic table. Patrick has cerebral palsy and cannot walk. I grabbed him, we started out. The first after shock hit before we could make it. The shaking increased, pictures were flying. I was knocked down and wound up on all fours, or threes rather, since I had Patrick tucked under me with one arm. We crawled outside. At the picnic table we huddled together; Grandma, Angela Patrick and me, the two little ones very wet, very naked, and very scared. Another after shock came and we watched the chimney slide off the roof. Horrible sounds were came from the house, breaking glass, creaking, and groaning.

Then it was quiet for a moment but I was afraid of what more after shocks might do to the house. I felt I had to do what I had to do fast. Grandma stayed with the kids. I ran inside straight to my bedroom, facing the patio. I opened the window, and began throwing blankets out to wrap the children. Aftershock! I jumped out the window. When it subsided I made another dash inside, to the kids room to scoop up clothes. Aftershock! Out the window again. I needed a break. I let a few aftershocks go by while we dried the kids and wrapped them in blankets. I got my nerve back up and made another dash. This time inside to the hollow bench where I'd stored all of my negatives and important papers in tote bags. I smelled smoke. Aftershock! I held on to the bench. Next I went to the kitchen to grab granola bars and bread. The smell of smoke was getting stronger. I took a quick look for the fire but couldn't see it. I got back outside as quick as I could with the tote bags and the food.

During the evening the severity of the aftershocks lessened. Neighbors came by, checking on us, making sure I'd turned off gas , water, and electric. As one neighbor left, another showed up, and I remember feeling so fortunate to have neighbors who cared. One neighbor suggested I turn my car around in the driveway, in case I had to leave quickly. I began to take the tote bags of family treasures, food, and blankets to my van. Down the hill, the garage was still accessible enough to reach the tent and sleeping bags inside, so I grabbed those, too. More neighbors came to check. At the picnic table we could still smell smoke, but not as strong as before. I decided to evacuate.

We live in the country, on one of those lovely meandering dead-end roads. A neighbor told me that there were camps being set up at each end of the road. I loaded up Grandma and the kids and started to drive out. Looking back, the smell of smoke in my nostrils, I thought that I might never see my house again. Looking forward, I knew we were all safe and somehow knew my husband was, too. At the neighborhood camp we checked on our friends, checked for any injuries (thank goodness, there were none), and checked on each other's supplies. We watched another aftershock, you could actually see it, roll down the street towards us. Several families had gathered and were setting up tents. The first one up was for the kids, complete with a salvaged Monopoly board and a few other games. The next one became the community kitchen .As the night vigil began the first of the fire trucks made it's way down the street. All night long we would see them going back and forth. We heard the helicopters overhead. We knew there must be a fire nearby. About 3:00 am, my husband finally arrived. It had taken him 11 hours to drive 70 miles.

Daybreak. We left the kids with our friends, and made our way home, fearing what we'd find. It was still there! Less one chimney but otherwise fine! Going inside was a shock, though. Pictures and books and my Celtic harp had flown across the living room. The kid's room was unrecognizable. The bathtub was empty, the water was on the floor. In the kitchen, all the cupboards were opened and mostly empty, their former contents now covering the floor. The smell of smoke was still quite strong. We looked around again for something smoldering. The fire trucks were gone and we didn't know if we could get them back. In the kitchen we had begun sifting through the mess looking for anything burning or edible when my husband said, "I found it, I found the fire!". I turned to see him, huge grin on his face, holding his hand out, palm up, rubbing some thick liquid between his fingers. Suddenly I remembered. After the beach... only yesterday? It seemed a lifetime ago... I had been making beef jerky. Among the ingredients a bottle of liquid smoke had smashed and combined with a bottle of Kahlua. Boy! That was one powerful smell. Thank goodness. We spent that night at the neighborhood camp, so the kids could be with other kids. After that we set up our own camp on the hill above our house, where we lived for weeks as we shoveled out debris and repaired or rebuilt what little required it. We were lucky. My husband, a contractor, had inspected the house years before when we bought it. It was secured to the foundation, there were no structural problems. My neighbors were not so lucky. Homes on both sides of us sustained major structural damage, and two houses away, the home slid partially off it's foundation.

The quake had been hard on the kids, though. My son, who could somehow hear the deep beginnings of the aftershocks, his hands shooting up to cover his ears, as he screamed "AGAIN!" and my daughter were both traumatized. For years Angela would get panicky if the gas tank on the family van went below half. Even so, I am convinced that it would have been a lot worse for the kids if we hadn't rehearsed our family plan.

There were many stories like mine In our community. Unfortunately some much, much worse. As I said, we were lucky. Next time I won't depend on luck. I'll be better prepared: water, food and survival supplies in an accessible place outside the house, a little cash, gas in the car for evacuating farther than just down the street, and clothes to wear, to name a few. That earthquake taught me it's up to each of us and all of us to be prepared.