My Hatian friend writes, "We are still unable to reach my dad, but we have heard third hand from someone in the area that my family are ok. We have some reason to be positive, but until I speak with my dad and account for every member of my family I will remain a nervous wreck. Seeing those bodies being hauled away with no one to claim them and no identity is heart wrenching. I am told my dad is sleeping out in the open on some street. Haven't heard anything about my nieces, cousins and uncles".

I find myself consumed by the coverage, as if determined to watch until I feel an adequate portion of their sorrow. Maybe I can take it from them, share the weight, through this television screen.

When President Obama made one of his initial statements he said "We will not forget you. We will not forsake you". I feel like the word "again" was meant to have been added after each phrase. For this is a country we had abandoned indeed, neighbors practically in our own backyard.

I ask myself "what would I do without you?" when my waking eyes fall upon my dear one. But he is sound asleep, floating face down in a cloud of pillows and comforters, clothed in fleece, an arm's reach from his glass of water, stomach not quite but almost ready to break-fast, which it shall upon request.