The jarring noise on my phone means I have 5 minutes to get to the safe room about thirty seconds away.

First, I go to the bathroom. Being caught in the shelter with a full bladder, waiting for the all-clear signal, is not very comfortable to say the least.

Second, I gather my afghan from the couch, it’s been cold lately, and look for my knitting.

Don’t forget your phone, I remind myself.

Arms full, and ready, I enter the safe room and sit down on the couch. I call to my husband, I don’t know what he is still doing. He comes in puts on channel 13 news on his computer and we wait.

When the sirens go off, we close the steel door and now, hermetically sealed in from the outside world, we wait and count the booms if there are any.

All this time we are calm.

My book is here waiting for me, and I turn to page 102 (I think that is where I left off), but if I have trouble concentrating, I open my phone and do the mini crossword on the NYT app.

We don’t even listen to news anymore. It’s just on to remind us that the outside world still exists.

I remember to text my kids we’re ok, and then I see their texts too.

The all-clear sounds and we leave the safe room.

I go back to making breakfast, our day begins and I think this is becoming all too routine.