I will never be able to forget the smell of rubble and debris. Yes, even waste fragments and broken bricks have a distinct smell that still makes my nose itch. As I looked at the damage around me, I began to wonder how such a beautiful day turned into a horrific nightmare. My day started at 9 o’clock in the morning. I woke up to the sound of cars honking and people yelling in the crowded and busy streets below my apartment in Surat, India. Reluctantly, I forced myself to get out of bed and go through my morning routine. My 7-year-old mind was convinced on spending the day outside with friends; my older and wiser mom cajoled me into staying inside in order to avoid the scorching sun and humid air of a typical summer afternoon in India. I spent
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The insipid afternoon faded into a dark, starless night. The occasional chirping of unknown insects outside my window only broke the eeriness of nightfall. I found myself sitting at the dinner table, eating a plateful of traditional Indian food. The smell of exotic spices permeated throughout the room. It frustrates my mind to know that I will never be able to recall what
I had for dinner after the events of that night. I have expressed gratitude to God for every meal I have since lived to consume. After dinner, my mom quickly finished cleaning the mess of pots and pans she used to cook the delicious meal, and we all sat in the living room to watch a movie.
I drifted off to sleep, peacefully, before the movie had even reached its climax. My dreams became fuzzy as I felt my bed shaking. I opened my eyes to the darkness of my room. The dingy silence was broken by the sound of cups and saucers shattering on the kitchen floor. I got up from my bed, and immediately felt the ground moving. No, the ground was pounding! Before I could let out a scream of terror, my mom barged into my room. The look on her face told me exactly what was happening: an
The insipid afternoon faded into a dark, starless night. The occasional chirping of unknown insects outside my window only broke the eeriness of nightfall. I found myself sitting at the dinner table, eating a plateful of traditional Indian food. The smell of exotic spices permeated throughout the room. It frustrates my mind to know that I will never be able to recall what
I had for dinner after the events of that night. I have expressed gratitude to God for every meal I have since lived to consume. After dinner, my mom quickly finished cleaning the mess of pots and pans she used to cook the delicious meal, and we all sat in the living room to watch a movie.
I drifted off to sleep, peacefully, before the movie had even reached its climax. My dreams became fuzzy as I felt my bed shaking. I opened my eyes to the darkness of my room. The dingy silence was broken by the sound of cups and saucers shattering on the kitchen floor. I got up from my bed, and immediately felt the ground moving. No, the ground was pounding! Before I could let out a scream of terror, my mom barged into my room. The look on her face told me exactly what was happening: an