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“… and a house is not a home..”
I cringe as I see what welcomed me when I arrived from the Metro this morning. Trees uprooted, signs all over the place, and mud everywhere. What used to be a neighborhood was now a washed away war zone. It had not dawned on me that my hometown experienced a very destructive calamity, until I saw it with my own two eyes. Stories of survival were shared. Whispers of death toll (oh, how I hate the word) were exchanged. Rescuers scattered. It looked and felt like a scene in the series The Walking Dead. Only they weren’t walking, they were floating.
I knew, the moment I went inside what was left of my home, that it will never be the same again. It smelled of dirt, devastation and death. These wooden floors, which I had imagined to be a swimming pool when I was a child, would forever be tainted with the pool of mud that destroyed it. I no longer want to call it ‘Home’ when it could have been the reason why I would lose my family.
But I am still grateful I still have them, each one of them.
My prayers extend to everyone who is affected by Bagyong Sedong. Let us all try to help, in whatever way we can. Spread the word.
(Photos by: Joshua Cucueco)
