Today is the seven-year anniversary of a very big day in these parts.
Not only is it the anniversary of the day I plucked my 2-year-old son off the big boy potty without his diaper and ran out the front door, fearing potty-training failure, but it is also the anniversary of the day a 6.8 earthquake rocked our area.
The Nisqually Quake wasn't that bad, despite it's magnitude, because it's origin was more than 30 miles beneath the surface, but it's effects still linger with me to this day.
It was in the early morning and McRae was off at preschool. Wyatt and I were planning on spending the morning working on the task at hand, potty training. He was such a willing participant, and began to show the signs that he was ready much earlier than his brother.
So there we were, in the bathroom of our first home when the shaking began. I will forever be grateful that the main bathroom of our little, 1,200 sq. foot first home was within sight of the front door, because that was where I was headed.
Forget about it. I hoisted Wyatt's pants up and ran with the speed of a cheetah for the front door.
The shaking continued and the air was odd.
I clutched my baby and made it to the end of our driveway, not sure if it was the earth that was still moving or me. And then I looked a few houses over at my neighbor, whom I hardly knew except I knew that his wife worked days and he was sometimes home with their baby.
He was holding his son, too.
We stood there, motionless in the aftermath for many minutes, not saying a word.
When we were sure it was over, we spoke.
"Well, that was interesting," he said.
"It certainly was," I answered.
"Are you okay?"
"I think so," I replied, suddenly realizing the urgent need to go get McRae from preschool, to have him with me, to know that he was okay.
Brett was working construction at the time and was in a lumber shop on an island when the quake hit. When I called him, frantic and wanting him home as soon as possible, he didn't understand why.
Why? Are you kidding me, we just had a serious earthquake and I am scared and I need you home!
He finally did come home and see the news. Then, he got it.
"I'm sorry, I didn't realize . . . "
And there we sat, holding our little boys and watching the news reports. Lucky.