Looking Out My BackDoor - Shake, rattle and roll

That was some rattle-my-bones earthquake!

When the shocks reached me, I was sitting at my computer, working on my Spanish. Immediately my chair became a rocking chair. Instantly I knew it was a quake.

I could see the light fixtures swaying over my stove and sink. The twenty-litre bottle of drinking water threatened to jump from the ceramic holding jar. My mind erased everything I had learned about quake safety.

All I knew for sure was that I wanted to be outside in the open area, not in a brick house beneath a tile roof. I couldn’t move. I could not rise from the chair and I tried.

I was not paralyzed by fear. I don’t mean I wasn’t scared. Of course I was scared. But I was not afraid to stand. I physically could not stand. When I tried to stand, the quake slammed me back into my chair.

The quake of any size that I’d previously experienced in the Seattle area lasted only seconds. This one did the hokey-pokey in lateral slip-slide motion for more than a minute while I was nailed to my chair.

Outside my window the long pipe wind-chimes continued their rackety song and dance, the last to subside and settle.

Finally I was able to stand upright and walk outside, once the danger had passed. I’ve a gift for that kind of delayed reaction.

Josue rushed over to make sure I was OK. Janet from next door showed up within a few moments. Michelle from Oconahua called to ask the same. She had been working by their pool and watched water slosh over the sides.

One of the first things I thought of was that just the day before I’d been bragging to Pat’s brother from Hawaii that we here live in an area that experiences no extremes. (Pat is my cousin-in-law.) Every time I make a rather pompous statement like that, I wonder if it will turn and smack me in the face.

No, I did not cause the earthquake.

We are definitely prone to quakes in Mexico, but up here in the mountains seldom feel them. It took me the remainder of the day to get that quake out of my stomach. I cannot imagine being south of us in Colima or Michoacan experiencing the brunt of the quake waves.

The rest of the day, while waiting for after sharks to attack, I thought a lot about Place, about how if one is so inclined, any place is a Paradise and every Paradise has snakes in the Garden.

If one is inclined toward the Fiery Regions, well then, there you are.

When bad things happen, we like to blow them up into worse than they are. A common trait. So I turned my mind to Puerto Rico, another Paradise place, slammed by disaster after disaster. More than Place, I thought about the People, People who know real loss, real pain.

The more I thought about Place, the more I thought about People. This morning my friend Kathy and I were talking about living in Mexico. We agree, first we fell in love with People and then we fell in love with Place.

I’ve been fortunate to live in a lot of places and, always, I’ve found good people.

Lest you mistakenly think me a Pollyanna, I’m not blind to my own and other people’s dark sides. I love Mexico, more so after these several years. People and Place.

Mexico is still, it seems to me, a place where one can still live more simply in all ways. In that simplicity, goodness stands out, is more easily seen. On the flip side, so does the bad stand stark. Yin and Yang. Plain to see, out in the open. Living side by side.

Yes, some days I sound like a cheer-leader. Let me assure you, most days I am the Greek Chorus.

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Sondra Ashton grew up in Harlem but spent most of her adult life out of state. She returned to see the Hi-Line with a perspective of delight. After several years back in Harlem, Ashton is seeking new experiences in Etzatlan, Mexico. Once a Montanan, always. Read Ashton’s essays and other work at http://montanatumbleweed.blogspot.com/. Email [email protected].