I still sleep in shoes

By Pamela Cerdeira

We were on the top floor of the MVS building on Mariano Escobedo, the one that warns you every time a heavy truck passes by because it sways from one side to the other. Is it shaking? is the usual question, every 15 minutes, until you get used to it. The program had ended with an interview to some authority, in which we congratulated ourselves on how much this city had learned in terms of prevention, we were no longer the same as in 1985, we knew how to evacuate, our constructions were stronger, we did everything better, until it shook again.

I don't remember when I started to descend, but I do remember that moment when I still had a floor to go and I thought that those in front of me were going too slow, I looked out the window and the dust coming from the buildings on the other side of the street made it seem as if they had fallen, the light wires were moving as I had never seen them before, it had been shaking for too long and the earth seemed to be still angry with the Mexicans. I thought for a few seconds "this is it", this is the end, and I was surprised that I felt no terror, no fear, just the feeling of someone who surrenders to the inevitable; no, I did not think of my children, nor my husband, nor my mother, nor anyone else. I followed the slow pace of my companions and managed to get out of the building.