I don’t know if this is a brand new topic or just a continuation of a previous blog about Haiti’s earthquake. I was devastated to hear what happened to my country over a year ago. I was worried about not hearing from my dad, about my dying grandmother having to live through that kind of terror. But all my worries and fears faded.
And then New York gets hit with an earthquake, a tremor, if we want to be honest. Lasted the whole of five minutes and then everyone went back to work.
That was almost three hours ago and I have yet to feel okay about. No one was hurt, there was nothing broken or even out of place – most people outside on the street didn’t even feel it.
And yet, here I am, still shaken.
How could my family live through an earthquake? How can they wake up each day after that devastation and keep going? I sit here and think and really remember my last trip to Haiti. Seeing those blue plastic tents, laid out on a field with no shade, in a country that is perpetually sunny and hot. My sister lost a child in that earthquake. People died in that earthquake.
And here I sit, not a single hair out of place. What I am supposed to do with that kind of realization?