Water,  something vital to human life.

Water,  used for drinking, swimming, and cleaning.

Water,  usually gentle, like a familiar routine.

But on Boxing Day, 2004, at 7:58 am, in seconds, 

water became something I never expected. 

Moments before an earthquake struck, the kitchen floor cracked beneath my feet. 

Kitchen dishes fell off the shelves, crumbling to pieces as they smashed into the floor. 

My sister screamed. 

Nothing was what it seemed.

I stood there frozen, almost like a  dream.

My house shook uncontrollably. 

A wave of worry hit me. 

What was to come? What just happened? What's going on? 

I was confused. I didn't understand.

Seconds later, I hear a rush of water. 

Moments later, the water is swallowing my house. 

Water everywhere, destroying everything, all my belongings.

My family. My sister, my brother, and my parents. 

All being taken away, by water, something I used to trust. 

I tried to scream. But it was no help; water muffled my sounds.

 I reach for my sister, but there is only water.

I reach for my parents, but there is only water.

Everything I loved is gone, in seconds.

Water surrounds me, water and nothing else.  

Hurting my life and  230,000 others.