It’s been a quiet week here in New Orleans, my home town…
That’s all I could think today, driving home from yoga. “It’s been a quiet week here in Lake Wobegon, my home town…” I grew up listening to Garrison Keillor. I grew up falling asleep to tapes of A Prairie Home Companion. If you didn’t already realize I was raised by liberal recovering-hippies, well… now you know.
It’s been a quiet week. And today just happened. Again. Six years ago there was The Thing that happened. On the Fifth Anniversary everybody still talked about it and did their mourning and mooning and moaning about how people should stop talking about the The Thing. But today, on the Sixth Anniversary, nothing happened.
It’s been a quiet week in New Orleans, my home town… the girls and I got together on Saturday, with late brunch drinks (Champagne + Blueberry-Pomegranate is just as delightful as it sounds) and watched My Big Fat Gypsy Wedding (which is actually far more disturbing than it sounds), and I got day drunk and fell asleep at 8pm. Sunday I made groceries and went to the grand opening of the New Orleans Healing Center.
This morning, I woke up, stopped by the coffee shop, and went to work. The air’s a little smoky, but other than that it was just another day. Just another Monday. It wasn’t even manic. Our staff meeting was practically calm.
It’s been a quiet week.
And yet, today still feels like the beginning of a new year. It’s been (whatever 365 times 6 is… 1900 or so) days since Katrina hit and then the levees and all that. I wonder: will it always be like this? Will today always be a sacred day, no matter what? Is this what it feels like when you lose a child or a spouse and their death-day passes and you get mad at everybody who doesn’t remember? And will I always feel guilty about being angry about that?
When will I start measuring years again from January 1? Or at least from my birthday? Will that ever happen? My life is still divided into BK and AK.
As I drove to work this morning, I realized 80% of the people I work with didn’t live here during The Thing. There’s one kid who was in college at the time… But otherwise, it’s a bunch of folks who all lived out of harm’s way who work there. Even the handful that lived in New Orleans didn’t live *in it*. I hate that I care about that. I am on my way to becoming that 70 year-old lady who talks about The Big One, and how none of y’all kids really understand.
But in reality, they don’t really understand.
It was a quiet week in New Orleans, my home town… I suppose I should be thankful for that.