I was in second grade at the time, standing near the kitchen door and holding a glass of milk. I had planned to start my daily homework. Abruptly, the quake began, thundering through our one story San Jose house and rattling the glasses in the cupboards. I dropped my glass and milk spread across the floor. My mother yelled something to me over the noise; she didn’t want me to cut my bare feet. I instinctively ran towards the front door, and she pulled me back the other way, towards the garage. We fled as the walls swayed and the ground rumbled beneath us. My parents’ newly purchased blue Voyager was leaping up and down on the driveway like a child on a sugar high. I couldn’t believe that an earthquake could move our van around with such ease. I also wondered if the palm tree planted beside our driveway would come crashing down as well. It felt as if the world would never stop moving…

When the shaking finally stopped, head began to spin. I remember asking my mother why I felt so dizzy, and she explained that I was simply reacting to the quake itself. Later that evening, I remember sitting on the couch inside, watching the aftermath of the quake on the local San Jose station, and shuddering as another aftershock rippled through our house. I didn’t feel safe again for some time…

By Beth Fisher

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