Of Earth and Water, Past and Present

When I was a kid, I used to dig trenches along the edge of my parents' garden, grab the hose, and run water down my little channel. Boats of leaves or grass would get swept along, sometimes slowly, peacefully, sometimes quickly and chaotic. Now and then, I would erect dams, using sticks or dirt. If they held, the water quickly overflowed the banks of my little river. Other times, the water would slow for a moment, build up some energy, then brush aside my small attempts to contain it.

This morning, watching the news, I saw an image that reminded me of my innocent childhood activity. Except this time, rather than filling me with a sense of whimsy, I felt fear and sadness. As I watched, water from a tsunami swept over coastal areas of Japan, sweeping cars and houses away like my little grass boats, larger structures like my dams.