My earliest memory is during the Northridge Earthquake in January of 1994, I believe. I had just turned 4 earlier that month. My father ran into my room of my old house and grabbed me out of bed. He took me into our living room, where I was sitting with my mother and our babysitter at the time. I remember drawing and looking out the window in the pitch black.
This was an unusual circumstance, along with the fact that our chimney fell off as well.
I do believe this was me, and is continuous with who I have become. It was a big part of my life, and a big part of history. I remember the day very vividly.
