The floor tilted. Pictures crashed to the floor.
Beyond the French doors, water slopped out of the pool as if it was an overfilled bowl about to fall.
Our maid Johanna stood there and screamed.
As the house continued to tremble, I grabbed our passports and dragged the hysterical Johanna outside. I don’t recall how long we waited but things eventually settled down. Apart from our nerves, not much was damaged.
This bit of excitement happened in Nicaragua, nearly 50 years after the huge quake in 1972 that destroyed most of the capital city of Managua and killed upwards of 10,000 people. Dread of another big quake was a common topic of conversation. We had a shovel and pickaxe under the bed and emergency “go” bags by the front door.
Prior to that episode, I was in Mexico when tremors started, visiting the family residence of a NATO ambassador. I vividly recall the huge crystal chandelier in their foyer swinging like a pendulum. We all heaved a sigh of relief when the swinging subsided and the heavy fixture stopped moving.
Another time I was in a remote area of Papua New Guinea when an earthquake struck. The walls of the place we were staying in were basically thatch. I expected them to collapse into a heap of straw.
To my surprise, the seemingly flimsy walls held. They looked weak but their strength was in their ability to flex.
Related post: Land of the Unexpected
Whole lotta shakin’
Sometimes we experience earthquakes even when the ground isn’t moving and the alerts are silent. People get sick. Families break up. Friends are lost. Jobs are lost. Bankruptcy.
October was an earthquake month for me. Several family members got seriously sick. A loved one died. Others suffered comically terrible travel.
Basically, as soon as one wave of tremors subsided, another began.
Yet, like that rugged and remote spot in Papua New Guinea, the walls of our community are sturdier than we realize. Friends and family are there to help.
We lean on each other, shifting to fill the cracks, holding steady through the aftershocks. Kind words, shared memories, and small acts of grace become the reinforcements that keep us upright.
If you’re feeling the tremors too, know that you’re not alone. We’re all coping with an earthquake or two.
The foundation will be stronger for having been shaken.
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MY BACKSTORY— I learned a few things about danger, deception and resilience during a 30-year career with the CIA focusing on counterdrug efforts and technical collection. Now a mystery author, those lessons play out on the page, especially in the Detective Emilia Cruz mystery series set in Acapulco. Starting with Cliff Diver, the series is a back-to-back winner of the Poison Cup Award for Outstanding Series from CrimeMasters of America. I’ve also written historical and political thrillers, essays about the craft of crime fiction, and live with a very large white dog named Bear.
