<?xml version="1.0" encoding="UTF-8" standalone="yes"?><oembed><version><![CDATA[1.0]]></version><provider_name><![CDATA[vgjules50]]></provider_name><provider_url><![CDATA[https://vgjules50.wordpress.com]]></provider_url><author_name><![CDATA[vgjules50]]></author_name><author_url><![CDATA[https://vgjules50.wordpress.com/author/vgjules50/]]></author_url><title><![CDATA[Remembering 22 February]]></title><type><![CDATA[link]]></type><html><![CDATA[<p>For each it is a different perception/experience</p>
<p>inner mind&#8217;s eye view, perhaps shattered by shock</p>
<p>concave glass distorted,</p>
<p>a feeling of chest tightened</p>
<p>fright&#8230;collapse</p>
<p>or action, spurred by despair, by a weird calmness that drives you to find, search for reconnect to</p>
<p>those loved ones who right in that moment are foremost in your heart, your thoughts, who are you know not where,</p>
<p>you hope, safe.</p>
<p>You stand in Latimer Square, on grass, that you look at at your feet, to anchor you.</p>
<p>As you&#8217;d come out of the building in which you feared you would have stayed trapped,</p>
<p>you looked in shock at a 9/11 scenario across at what</p>
<p>had been minutes before the place you&#8217;d had a 1:30 appointment that day&#8230;</p>
<p>the CTV building.</p>
<p>Now smoke and clouds of grey, whirled about and you</p>
<p>seeking reassurance</p>
<p>looked to the trees around, leaves rustling, alive, unmoved but by the winds for the nearby firestorm,</p>
<p>for you trees had always been a  calm presence,</p>
<p>a surety of permanence&#8230;</p>
<p>the ground continued to shake, you punched your daughters&#8217; numbers</p>
<p>into your phone, no reply. Then suddenly your phone rang</p>
<p>&#8220;Mum are you all right?&#8221; It was your son&#8217;s voice</p>
<p>calling from his parliamentary office.</p>
<p>You said yes, asked him to keep trying to reach his sisters.</p>
<p>You checked on others from your building, sitting weeping as they too could not reach loved ones.</p>
<p>You asked your supervisor if you could go, thinking to drive to find</p>
<p>those beloved daughters and 4 year old granddaughter Josephine  and 3 week old Aramea.</p>
<p>You found your car, you could drive it, but not where you so longed to go, to your daughters,</p>
<p>streets you found crumpled, bent, bridges out of kilter</p>
<p>but you walked to your car,through a morass of liquefaction.</p>
<p>Driving hoping to head to the hills, you learned from gesticualtions of people heading off directing traffic and from your car radio no, no way to go, centre of the shock was there, numb, you drove in a maze, fazed,</p>
<p>finally the ten minute drive home to ilam was concluded</p>
<p>after two hours</p>
<p>of stop and start,</p>
<p>rock and roll, brakes on waiting for quakes to halt and you halted,</p>
<p>tried to breathe, tried again your ohone</p>
<p>in vain.</p>
<p>You locked your car doors and windows watching</p>
<p>folk disoriented, dazed walking the other way.</p>
<p>Your focus on home, medical, food supplies and</p>
<p>going back by bike to search for your heart&#8217;s dearest.</p>
<p>You fed the dog, he wagging his tail at the gate.</p>
<p>You checked his water dish, put out another, left him food.</p>
<p>Inside your house seemed ok, doors stiff, windows not opening,</p>
<p>but.</p>
<p>You tried to phone your girls agian realised no power.</p>
<p>Got candles, matches, a foil blanket, First aid food tin oener,</p>
<p>put all in a backpack,</p>
<p>got your cycle out, pump, patted the dog bye, distracted,</p>
<p>went to a neighbour, got tyres pumped</p>
<p>and adrenaline still coursing through you went back</p>
<p>over bumps, around lumps,passed houses slumped,</p>
<p>people dumped</p>
<p>by the road, at the kerb, recycling their lives,</p>
<p>you pedalled on&#8230;</p>
<p>by Hagley Park you got a text &#8220;House gone south Timaru&#8221;</p>
<p>you realised that was elder daughter&#8217;s message.</p>
<p>At almost the same time one from younger daughter, beloved Tams</p>
<p>&#8216;Where you mum?&#8221; I replied</p>
<p>&#8220;On my way to you, on bike, car out of petrol,</p>
<p>couldn&#8217;t get across roads anyway, see you soon.&#8221;</p>
<p>Into the Red Zone I went, not questioned by police</p>
<p>and army already personnel behind sandbag  barricades.</p>
<p>I guess I looked like I was going home.</p>
<p>I guess it was an hour or two before they began</p>
<p>questioning the right of people to be anywhere!</p>
<p>I got to my daughter&#8217;s old house, partly cracked</p>
<p>through, garage rubble alongside,</p>
<p>fences hanging crazily.</p>
<p>I set my cycle down. Hugged her. We retold</p>
<p>where we had been. Her flatmate was there too.</p>
<p>We realised all of us were lucky to be alive</p>
<p>we&#8217;d changed plans for the day, made calls earlier</p>
<p>that variously had changed our plans, saved our lives.</p>
<p>&nbsp;</p>
<p>&nbsp;</p>
<p>&nbsp;</p>
<p>&nbsp;</p>
<p>&nbsp;</p>
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