That evening of April 25, we checked the news as a family. It was shocking. The Dharahara Tower was gone. Houses had turned to rubble. Kathmandu was in chaos. The death toll rose every minute. “over 100, and expected to rise” . . . “200, 300, 400.” My mother went to the store to get something. By the time she was back, it was over 700.
The seismologists’ reports were crazy. A 8.1 earthquake or 7.9 or 7.8 ? Did anyone care? Where was the epicenter? Lamjung? Nuwakot? They moved it half a dozen times. But they didn’t move it — it had already happened . . .
It was all like a dream. I could hardly believe that this was happening to my country. It seemed so far away . . .That tremor we felt in the afternoon, how could it have wreaked so much havoc? But — we were the closest city to the epicenter . . . how did this area escape the destruction?
* * * * * * *
It was not very relaxing, trying to sleep that night. Every few minutes, the house would creak and groan with the aftershocks. It was so continual that it seemed as if it would never stop. Were we the only ones sleeping at home, in the third floor, that night in Nepal? Maybe. Maybe not.
What if the ceiling falls when I’m sleeping? I don’t care if I die, really. But I don’t want it to hurt. I don’t want to be trapped. I can’t bear the thought of being trapped and helpless. My brother! Especially not my brother. . .
I was paralyzed with the thought. I felt as if I were glued to the bed. Dozens of news pictures flashed through my head.
“But you’re safe here, girl. We’re all safe. This is where God placed you, and can’t you trust Him to take care of you?” Yes. “When you’re in the center of God’s will, that the safest place on earth.” Yes, where did I read that? “Doesn’t matter. Go to sleep.”
It didn’t matter after that. Though the aftershocks continued to rock the house all night, I knew I was in the center of God’s will, and that was all that mattered.
