A Notable Morning: Okayama Earthquake

Okayama, Japan — 10:20 am, January 6th, 2026. The weather was sunny, my breakfast was just polished off, and a comfort that only oats can bring warmed my constitution. As I educated myself on aplastic distal vaginas — necessary reading for my job — a sudden shock passed through the bedroom, and indeed the whole house. Was it a sharp gust of wind? Or was it a minor earthquake, the likes of which ramble through this part of Japan pretty often?

Unaware that this clap of vibration was the P-wave — commonly felt by felines but easily felt in an old, creaking minka house — I sat there musing about the ominous logarithmic nature of earthquake scales. Within moments, an unfamiliar siren blared out from my phone. Second one: What is that? Second two: That’s for earthquakes, right? Second three: Did that small shock just set off the alarm, or does that mean…

I just had time to grab my phone and dive into the laundry cupboard when a tectonic shifting rocked the whole house. Wondering whether the compartment above me might break and my corpse would be found squatting amid my wife’s undergarments, I considered, “Is this really ‘The Big One’?” A clatter of objects falling in the house struck my ear. Within 10 seconds, I had my answer — no. The violent shaking subsided. I paused to make sure all was well before emerging from the den to search for my grandmother-in-law, who must have experienced this tremor from the ground floor.

“Daijōbu?!” I exclaimed as I flung open the door, prepared to see her 89-year-old body squashed beneath the Welsh dresser. Plumb in the middle of the living room, atop her electric carpet, she was smiling like the Happy Buddha. “Daijōbu?” she returned.

For this episode of life, all was well.