Nineteen years ago today I was sitting in a car with my mother and one of her friends driving around the Gulf South wondering if there would be a New Orleans to come back to.
I’d just gotten off a plane from the West Coast a few days ago, all my stuff was in a container in a warehouse that ended up being completely flooded and ruined (not that I knew that until a few weeks later). I was planning to stay with my mom for a while and figure out what to do with myself now that I’d given up on the animation industry.
It all worked out okay for me I guess, not too long after I was on a plane to Boston to go live with some friends, one of whom is now my husband. It was pretty traumatic for a while. And the city’s still barely recovered. I made it back here again after fourteen years of increasing seasonal depression in Boston and Seattle, but a lot of people still haven’t.
It’s raining outside. I should go get some brunch.
I feel like I should have some coherent story to tell here. I don’t want to spend the day digging through the chaos of my memories of the aftermath of Katrina and trying to find one though.