It's been a horrific year for air travel in SE Asia. Each of these accidents has moved me deeply. I find it particularly chilling looking at the flight path for flight 8501 and thinking about how many times I was in a small plane flying over that very patch of water. It could have been me --my family--scattered like leaves in the water.
Our friends here in the US see the CNN images and regard it as just one of the many tragic events of the week. But not for our family. We're sifting through the articles and discussing the details as if part of us is still back in Singapore. We do this every time something happens in a place where we've lived. Our circle of caring is wider, our potential to be devastated is greater. I never thought of it this way before but it's true.
Expats collect experiences and friendships and lay down tiny roots that we never fully pull away when we leave again. I don't think I'll ever stop leaping to my feet when I see "Singapore" run across the screen on the evening news. Our thoughts are very much with the grieving families of the people lost on flight 8501.
