a.w.o.l.

I've really taken my time in getting back to posting here. I was never in a hurry, although I did have a few stories I wanted to share. I just didn't have the time. Between getting things done, fraternizing with the usual crowd, and squeezing in a vacation on a tropical island after the semester has begun, I hadn't the luxury to navel gaze and wax philosophical.

And neither am I in the mood, after what just happened. So close, yet so far. The image of rotting corpses scattered all over churns the stomach; I can't imagine the stench. The fact that these used to be living, breathing human beings makes it even harder to accept. The fact that this many deaths could have been prevented makes it all the more tragic.

That's more than 144,000 presumed dead. ('Presumed', he says, when in reality the real figures are probably higher). I can't wrap my head around that number. And the personal stories are heart-wrenching. Entire families wiped out in seconds, leaving their sole survivors with hardly anything to live for. A gaunt, bespectacled Indian man in his fifties is made to bear the pain alone, because his wife and all his kids were killed. He doesn't know his purpose in life anymore, he tells the TV camera. His voice is pleading, desperate. A lady with an Australian accent can't contain her grief, because she can't find her daughters anywhere. She assumes the worst. An Indonesian recounts losing his daughter in his arms, calling out to her one last time.

And the thousands of children who are now orphans. So many, so suddenly, so unnecessarily. If only more could be done, instead of just handing out cash to the Red Cross in the hopes that it will reach the victims in time. If only warning systems were in place, there wouldn't be so much pain. If only...

What a way to start the new year.