A year later and it's still raining
I'm not sure what I should be writing here. There are a thousand emotions and none of them quite capture what I've been feeling today. A year ago, a year ago today, we were in Montgomery, Alabama. The hotel was clean and nice and very southern. It had a sweeping staircase and a front porch with rocking chairs. I have no clue what the name of it was. Everyone staying there was from New Orleans or Mississippi. I think there might have been a fireplace in the lobby. I know there was a TV. I made a point of never looking it as it flashed pictures of destruction to the empty lobby.
Everyone was in a room or outside. Most people were outside. It was cloudy and cool and squally. Sometimes people cried. Mostly we just sat and talked, but I can't remember what we talked about. Ethan and Ryan ran around chasing each other. The wind kicked up with each squall and at some point Ethan asked if the building would get blown away. "No way. We're very far away from the storm and very safe here." He was easily pacified a year ago.
I'm not sure how I found out about the levee breaks. It wasn't until months later that I found out the first break was the one that flooded my neighborhood. That was at 9:38am. I have no idea what I was doing at 9:38am on August 29, 2005. Maybe I was eating breakfast, or changing Ryan's diaper, or talking, or in the bathroom. I'm sure it was something very ordinary. Everything that day was ordinary and surreal.
The hotel wouldn't let pets in. If you brought your pet in they charged you $200. We kept the cats in their crates in the van. I think that day we took the crates out and put them on the porch so the cats could be with people and get some air. At some point, Kim (who evacuated with us because she was visiting us) took them by turns on to her lap. They were so grateful for attention they sat there among the strangers and purred. Everyone was grateful for the strangers around them. We were all we had. A year ago, there was only the hotel. There was no Gulf Coast. There was no neighborhood. There were cars and rocking chairs and a TV desperately trying to tell us something, but no one was watching.
Today was a very ordinary day. I don't what I was doing at 9:38am. I'm sure it was something ordinary. Maybe I was eating breakfast, or playing with the kids, or in the bathroom. It was ordinarily surreal. It was The Day, but no one else seemed to know. Two people asked me what the date was today. They didn't know. It was just Tuesday to them. It didn't have a number. It rained all day, but it was a gentle rain, not even a little squally. It was cool. People went to work, to school, to the store. I stared a lot. I felt anxious and groundless. I spent a lot of time listening to the rain.
The day we evacuated New Orleans we told Ethan and Ryan it was New Orleans Road Trip Day. We told them everyone in New Orleans was going on a road trip. It was something they could understand. They had been on road trips. That was one year and one day ago. Today I'm tired of this road trip and I just want to go home.
Everyone was in a room or outside. Most people were outside. It was cloudy and cool and squally. Sometimes people cried. Mostly we just sat and talked, but I can't remember what we talked about. Ethan and Ryan ran around chasing each other. The wind kicked up with each squall and at some point Ethan asked if the building would get blown away. "No way. We're very far away from the storm and very safe here." He was easily pacified a year ago.
I'm not sure how I found out about the levee breaks. It wasn't until months later that I found out the first break was the one that flooded my neighborhood. That was at 9:38am. I have no idea what I was doing at 9:38am on August 29, 2005. Maybe I was eating breakfast, or changing Ryan's diaper, or talking, or in the bathroom. I'm sure it was something very ordinary. Everything that day was ordinary and surreal.
The hotel wouldn't let pets in. If you brought your pet in they charged you $200. We kept the cats in their crates in the van. I think that day we took the crates out and put them on the porch so the cats could be with people and get some air. At some point, Kim (who evacuated with us because she was visiting us) took them by turns on to her lap. They were so grateful for attention they sat there among the strangers and purred. Everyone was grateful for the strangers around them. We were all we had. A year ago, there was only the hotel. There was no Gulf Coast. There was no neighborhood. There were cars and rocking chairs and a TV desperately trying to tell us something, but no one was watching.
Today was a very ordinary day. I don't what I was doing at 9:38am. I'm sure it was something ordinary. Maybe I was eating breakfast, or playing with the kids, or in the bathroom. It was ordinarily surreal. It was The Day, but no one else seemed to know. Two people asked me what the date was today. They didn't know. It was just Tuesday to them. It didn't have a number. It rained all day, but it was a gentle rain, not even a little squally. It was cool. People went to work, to school, to the store. I stared a lot. I felt anxious and groundless. I spent a lot of time listening to the rain.
The day we evacuated New Orleans we told Ethan and Ryan it was New Orleans Road Trip Day. We told them everyone in New Orleans was going on a road trip. It was something they could understand. They had been on road trips. That was one year and one day ago. Today I'm tired of this road trip and I just want to go home.