the new normal

my eyes were like giant orbs on stalks as i drove the slow journey of escape from my home. the street was filled with people, crying, hugging, looking around in bewilderment at their strange new world. the road, cracked, bumpy and filling with pot-holes and flooding from liquefaction would remain in this state for months to come.

the air, although still, was filled with a sense of panic. everyone was on their way somewhere- home, to school or somewhere else- simply escaping.

my eyes hurt.

in my haste to leave, gathering the few belongings i could carry, i failed to notice our chimney had fallen over and smashed a hole in the roof.

we arrived at the swedes, our refuge, and gathered with our friends. we hugged, we swept up; the children carried on playing although a little confused by suddenly being instructed to wear shoes in the house. we opened a bottle of wine- as much to celebrate being together as to calm our nerves. we clung to the battery operated radio (a crab who normally resides in the shower), listening for updates- hoping for good news.

the earth continued to shake. each time we all looked quickly to one another to see if we needed to take shelter. helicopters flew low overhead.

suddenly it dawned on me- our german exchange student would be returning from her school camping trip this afternoon- where was she? how would she get home? i tried her mobile- no answer. i sent a text. i tried to call her school but with 400000 other calls being placed at the same time, the system was overloaded.

i ran to a nearby friend's place knowing she had a very old dial phone that would work without electricity.

no luck.

i ran back. i tried the phone again, texted- nothing. no reply.

where was she?

pascal and tom decided there was only one option: that was to drive to the school in tom's 4WD van to find her... the 16km round trip took nearly 3 hours.

while listening to the radio we heard calls from people, pleas to help find lost friends and relatives. i called the radio station and let them know i was looking for our host-daughter...

just as i'd finished my call, call waiting told me i had someone trying to get through: an international number.

it was linnea's father.

"i'm sorry, i don't know where your daughter is" was all i could manage as my throat choked and tears ran down my face.

"it's ok," he says in his stilted accent. "she is with friends."

the school, unable (or unwilling) to make it to brighton, dropped her with a friend in a suburb more than 10km away... i was furious, but relieved.

later we shared a nervous meal with friends as the earth continued to shake. we had no water, no power, no sewerage but we still had each other- a lot more than some people had. we later returned home, to darkness and fear. wondering what would this mean- is this now our future? is this now our new normal?