Sailing. . . driving. . . even if it's in my mind

This story is full of street names all too familiar to me. I keep waiting for someone to mention my street, but they haven't yet.

Whenever I was homesick in graduate school, afterwards and even now, I would imagine myself driving from home to the Times-Picayune or to a friend's house uptown or to any PJ's location. The gentle memory and the beauty of the drive combined with the sound of the oldies station, Tulane station and WWOZ just made life seem perfect. Everything moved more slowly and with greater care in New Orleans. Lord, we knew it was all on the verge of falling apart, but God, I cried everytime I left the city and I still want to cry for it.

This really isn't getting any easier.