Approaching southerly

Today is 5 years since the 4.35am, 7.3 magnitude earthquake. It started a horror sequence of earthquakes, thousands of them, most notably the February 22 earthquake that killed 185 people, including my friend Rhys. 
For many the horror continues as they battle EQC, insurance companies, the council, and various quasi government authorities. 

It's quite late as I type this, and I recall how 5 years ago I was too scared to sleep in my bed upstairs. Instead I spent a sleepless night downstairs on the couch with Wilson. By this time I had power and water again. As it got dark I had light but I was scared to turn the light off.

Mum was in hospital after her major emergency surgery. Dad and I talked on the phone as I prepared myself for bed, me racing upstairs to grab what I needed, terrified another quake would hit while I was up there. Dad was calm on the end of the phone. He stayed on the phone while I sorted my sleeping bag, torch, water bottle and pillows. I stayed in my clothes and my shoes were by the door.

I lay on the couch and Wilson sat on top of me. I watched his silhouette and I'd see his ears turn as he heard another quake coming before I heard it. Then the house would shake violently.

And thus passed the first night, except the part where a 5 point something-or-other sent me off the couch and under the stairs.

Something else I strongly remember from that surreal Saturday, was moment in time when I realised the value of the ordinary and mundane. Nothing was ordinary and mundane. I no longer understood my home or trusted it, normal and mundane had been torn from me.

How much greater that must feel if you're a refugee.

It's taught me to appreciate the ordinary and cherish the mundane. I haven't forgotten that moment nor the longing I felt just to have the ordinariness of my life restored. I promised myself I'd never complain at feeling bored again.

I sometimes wonder and worry what the long term health effects will be. We lived in a state of terror for so long, the stress was enormous, and we've breathed in dust and particles from earthquake rubble and demolitions.

I try not to dwell on it but rather let it go. Worry and anxiety don't add to the quality of my life. I have a life to live and the earthquakes have made me appreciate and reach out and grab life.

Today isn't about a mountain top, or some other beautiful part of this active land I live in. It's just a part the ordinary I cherish. An intersection a few doors down from work, and an approaching southerly sliding on in. 

All very ordinary and all very welcome.