Long Live Louisiana

August 29th was a big day in south Louisiana.  Seven years ago we watched our city being overtaken by flood waters.  Charlie and I were newlyweds and expecting our first child.  We were both enrolled in doctoral programs. Our neighborhood and home sat in seven feet of water for a very long time before the pumps were able to dry things out. 

The baby wasn't meant to be and neither was my PhD, apparently (although I do ponder getting back to it).  I thought Charlie was going to want to jump ship and start anew on higher ground.  We did move to higher ground, just off Magazine Street, and started our family and continued our lives in New Orleans.  And that was without a doubt the very best decision for our family.  

Waiting for another hurricane to arrive at our city, again on August 29th, made for a very long day here in New York City. We weren't sitting inside our boarded up home with the genrator gased up and at the ready, but I still felt overwhelemed with anxiety.  

I got teary when Freddie's teacher and our doorman asked about our family and friends.  There cannot be any fretting with two young boys so I channeled that energy and dressed the boys in Saints and LSU Tigers garb and we practiced our "Who Dat" and "Tiger Bait" chants.  We listened to the blues, read southern stories (The Cajun Night Before Christmas gets read year round around here), and there were shrimp poboys for supper. 

South Louisiana suffered with flooding.  I'm thankful those we love were spared any major damage.  I am hopeful the next news out of New Orleans will be of the few, very few, days of fall weather that arrive each October.