In California, on occasion, the ground trembles, it shakes, it rattles, it rolls. Earthquakes come with the territory. For someone as neurotic as I am, during an earthquake I remain relatively calm. It’s as if all the shaking around me has to be balanced by stillness within.
I’ve been lucky (excuse me while I go knock on wood), the earthquakes I’ve experienced have not been devastating just disconcerting.
Sometimes you can hear an earthquake before you feel it. Case in point…
I don’t know how old I was, but I was young. Single digits kind of young. I was in our kitchen and I had just put a glass of ice cold milk on the table. It was just me and my glass of milk. I was about to slide onto the bench of our kitchen booth, when I heard a rumble. It was deep and powerful and seemed to be coming from far away, then my glass of milk started trembling and harmonizing with the rumble. Time slowed and I crawled under the table and waited it out. The rumble stopped and soon thereafter my glass of milk was silent as well. I scooted out and looked around.
Everything was fine. No damage had been done. I wasn’t scared or worried, I didn’t feel like I had to go find my mother and talk about it. Because people do that you know, they find other people and say, “Did you feel that? It was an earthquake. Did you feel the earthquake?” Then they tell each other their version of the experience, where they were, what it sounded like, how big it was, they describe it as rolling or jerky, and then they turn on the radio or TV to have someone official tell them about it. Not me, not on that day.
On that day, I stood in the kitchen by myself and when I saw that no damage had been done, I looked at my glass of milk on the table, the milk was still gently undulating in the glass, I slid onto the bench, reached for my milk and drank it.
That was not the first earthquake I ever experienced nor the first glass of milk I ever enjoyed, but they are the first memories I have of both. I can’t tell you how big that earthquake was, but I can tell you that somehow that glass of milk tasted even better than usual because the earth had moved. It gives a whole new meaning to “shaken, not stirred.”
Disclosure: This is part of a sponsored campaign with the California Milk Processor’s Board and Latina Mom Bloggers. Connect with The Master of the glass Half Full on Facebook or follow El Maestro on Twitter for your daily dose of #Positivismo.