Drop The Couch

It was really early. I could tell because Mom and Meg were still sleeping and the sun was just rising. Dad rushingly woke me up out of bed. He didn’t say much or explain, he just woke me up and carried me outside. I realized then that it must have been around 6am because he was still in his morning walk attire. He put me down and ran back into the house while repeatedly yelling for everyone to get out.

Still half asleep and confused, I struggled to stand up straight on the narrow dirt road of our dead end street. It was a hot, sunny day in the middle of Gujarat, India. It looked like any ordinary day, except for all the commotion of people running out of their homes and items clattering all over the place. My dad paused for a few seconds in the living room to convince my grandparents to drop what they were doing and leave but they woke up on the stubborn side of their bed that day, it seems, for they both refused to believe him or leave.

“Stop moving the couch that way!” Grandma yelled while trying to pull the couch into its new resting place in their living room.

“I’m not moving it! You’re doing that.” Grandpa responded, lifting his arms in the air.

“Neither of you are moving it! Let go of the couch and get out! There’s an earthquake!” My dad yelled one last time before leaving them to continue their delusional quarrel and running into our room where my mom and sister were still fast asleep. I saw him run back out past my grandparents, carrying my little sister who was still deeply asleep. He placed her next to me and I used my body to prop hers up as she slept.

“Stay here. Don’t come back inside no matter what you see or hear. Mom is not waking up. She keeps mumbling to stop rocking the boat so I’m going back in for her.” Dad instructed before he went back in for what seemed like hours.

The earthquake was getting more intense by the minute. By the time he ran back in for my mom, multiple items came crashing down from the walls and ceiling. It wasn’t until all of the plates in the kitchen fell to the ground and shattered that my grandparents realized there was an actual earthquake happening. They both abruptly took their hands off the couch at that moment and put rearranging their living room on hold to run outside to join me and my sister. I attempted to peek into the house for any signs of my parents while my grandma held my sister close to shelter her from nearby falling debris.

Nothing. I heard nothing. No signs of either of my parents running out or even on their way. No communication. No visual confirmation. I was starting to get restless and inched closer and closer to the front door as the minutes went by. My grandparents began warning me to stay put but I could hardly hear them over my terrified consciousness which, for a split second, believed that neither of them were going to walk through that wide open front door. The last thing I remember is the living room being filled with the pieces of all of my grandparents’ items.

*Based on a true story.