roam and rove

I heard of what happened at Virginia Tech Monday as I drove up the entrance ramp to Interstate 40 in East Asheville. An announcer on the classic rock station alluded to about 20 people dead. That's what they knew then. I had no idea what had happened, and now I can't remember where I was even going, to be honest.

It was one of those moments, one of those events that shape the timeline of your life. Pre-Columbia, post-Columbia. Pre-Sept. 11. Post-Sept. 11. One of those moments seared in your mind, one you'll talk about later, remembering with friends or family where you were when you heard. And the number? It kept going up, even though I wished, wished the news announcers would say it was over.

I'm far away and far removed from the actual experience and the aftermath. But as soon as I got home, I searched for information. I read the Web, watched the evening news and listened to part of the memorial service yesterday. It was overwhelming, wasn't it? Tragedy, the word, seems overused. But what other word describes it? What other words could describe it? It is that word in every way, every letter sounded out slowly, settling on your tongue, rolling before you, the air filled with it -- the looks of anguish and confusion and tragedy. Tragedy. Tragedy.