Cherry blossoms, jasmine and clover, the scent of honeysuckle as thick as the humidity that lingers throughout the day. These are fragrances that I have become familiar with. The pungent smell of gladiolas, and the beauty of a crape myrtle tree. Some stretching from the Forburg Marigny to parts of Gentilly. Uptown Garden District, streets lined with Magnolia trees. This is home to me.
Rain pouring down from the heavens as though this earth could absorb it all. The sound on the roof top, then sliding down the gutters through the pipes. The sound of huge splashes against the bedroom window. Flashes of lightening and the sound of thunder so loud it shakes my soul, a quiet stillness. Afraid to move between the rooms of the house for fear of somehow being struck. This is home for me.
No matter where I may travel, no matter how long I'm away, my mind always returns to this place, this sense of self. My childhood, my not so arkward teenage years, my maturity. Home is always here for me.
Though I long to travel to distant lands and love to meet all sorts of people, I have to return here. Once it was lost to me and it took a long time to get back to where it was. Scattered to the four winds, family, friends, people I will remember for an eternity. Yes, Katrina brought with her the means to separate us all for a time. Still we came back ever so gradually, we have returned simply because this is now, and forever will be home to us.
The sound of live jazz performances held at Snug Harbor Bistro on Frenchmen Street or Sweet Lorrain's Jazz supper club on St. Claude Avenue. The smell of fresh fish and boil crawfish from St. Roch's Market. Meeting friends at Congo Square and walking to the French Quarters to Cafe Du Monde to grab a cup of relief and those world famous beignets, those always warm pillows of sugary perfection. This is home personified.
A refuge I have made of it. Although, soon to leave it again, in search of something or someone to share it with. Hoping that they will see what I see, while sitting on a bench at Lake Pontchartrain; watching the waves beat against the barrier steps, the tide rushing in and out. People wading through its cool waters. Fisherman eager to catch whatever the lake will allow. Boats racing to and fro. The sun as it sets with its inviting colors of calm euphoria, reddish-orange into blue-gray black night upon it's setting. The sounds of the animals in the distance from Audubon Zoo, it's feeding time. The sounds of the St. Charles street car as the wheels screech along the tracks. The paddle boats as they go up and down "The Big Muddy"
The constancy of faith, the hope for the future, the sweet appearance of youth. I am truly home.
Question: Do You Know What It Means To Miss New Orleans?
Currently listening:The Definitive CollectionBy Louis ArmstrongRelease date: 2006-01-24
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