We didn’t get to wait as long as we would have liked. It came in the night as a thump and a grind. It wasn’t violent but it was wrenching. We woke in the middle of the straining, squeaking and grinding; rolled together onto the floor, and just hung on to each other. I said it sounded like a bulldozer was pushing on the corner of the house. Screeching, grating, popping and snapping. It could have been worse. Things were falling off the shelves and walls but not off the ceiling. . . .