Gaining strength
Well, I can finally get through to my parents on their cell phones. Yesterday it took 8 tries in a row, but I got through. Today it just took two tries.
It's progress.
My parents amaze me. Their optimism and forward thinking keep me afloat. We've learned that the water has finally gone down on our street and all that is left is a thick layer of ooze on the street and probably in our homes. A neighbor's son works for the city and used his badge to make his way into the neighborhood. He saw that the water reached the mailboxes high up on our porches. So I guess the World Books on the top shelf of the living room and my porcelain Disney figurines from childhood are safe and everything else is gone.
But my parents are treating this like a new adventure. They have the same spirit my friend Julie's five-year old has: a burning desire to concentrate on where this takes us instead of focusing on what we've lost.
I can tell I'm gaining strength and concentration again. Perhaps I'll finally be to write outside this blog and begin to commit in concrete words my feelings about this disaster, but also my endless love affair with New Orleans. No matter what happens and where this takes my friends and family, New Orleans is home. It's in my blood and it's apparent in the way I read and engage with the world. I can't mourn the city. How can I when it's alive in me and I'll be dammned to let it die. This is only the beginning of a new period of culture and history. We have the power to shape this. We must participate.
It's progress.
My parents amaze me. Their optimism and forward thinking keep me afloat. We've learned that the water has finally gone down on our street and all that is left is a thick layer of ooze on the street and probably in our homes. A neighbor's son works for the city and used his badge to make his way into the neighborhood. He saw that the water reached the mailboxes high up on our porches. So I guess the World Books on the top shelf of the living room and my porcelain Disney figurines from childhood are safe and everything else is gone.
But my parents are treating this like a new adventure. They have the same spirit my friend Julie's five-year old has: a burning desire to concentrate on where this takes us instead of focusing on what we've lost.
I can tell I'm gaining strength and concentration again. Perhaps I'll finally be to write outside this blog and begin to commit in concrete words my feelings about this disaster, but also my endless love affair with New Orleans. No matter what happens and where this takes my friends and family, New Orleans is home. It's in my blood and it's apparent in the way I read and engage with the world. I can't mourn the city. How can I when it's alive in me and I'll be dammned to let it die. This is only the beginning of a new period of culture and history. We have the power to shape this. We must participate.
posted by lequincampe at 5:05 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home