So here I am in Seattle. And I'm conflicted.
I want to be here in Seattle. But I didn't want to be here this way. This hasty way, of more or less running away, of fleeing a city and not really realizing what it all meant. I walk through my neighborhood and I think of all that I love and didn't realize that I missed: the smell of the evergreens, the ability to walk through parks, the excellent coffee at Tully's, how beautiful the lake looks and how much I miss its movement, the fact that buses actually run, my mountains.
But now I'm far away and discovering just how much I will miss the city that has settled into my heart. I miss the smell of jasmine in the evenings. I wonder where the hot sauce is at restaurants. I say hi to people on the streets and am sad when they don't say it back.
I worry for my city. I worry that it won't survive another blow. That no matter how much people love it, that it won't be able to re-recover. I'm doing my best to distract myself and not think of Gustav, but at this point, what is the hardest is not having people around that understand what it means to miss New Orleans. Texts are flying frantically, facebook is helping, but it's hard to not have anyone here who knows what it means to love a city in such a way that you worry for its safety. I am aware people have, for the most part, escaped the city. I'm not worried about my stuff--it's just stuff, and the few things that can't be replaced are with me. I'm worried that the spice and the smell and the sentiment of this distinct place will be forever lost.
I'm trying not to watch. I'm trying not to think. I'm trying not to pace in nervous circles. I'm praying, I'm crossing fingers, I'm searching for stars to wish upon. Stay safe NOLA. Stay safe.
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2 comments:
You speak of NOLA as a friend that you have created so many special memories with. It's as if you feel helpless waiting with NOLA (as a personification) to hear dreaded news from her doctor. Is her fate to be terminal, or is it going to just be long road back to health? And as you wait you don't know how you put your arms around her and tell her it's going to be okay, because you don't know if that's true.
Keep writing, sweetie, because that helps us all understand better the swarm of emotions you're dealing with. Bittersweet, I might say.
The heartsick pain you may be feeling is very personal because you are the only one that knows how it feels. But maybe if people around you could relate it to a time when they felt helpless, or dreaded losing a dear friend or family member to illness...then maybe they could come a little closer to relating how you feel right now.
I'm remembering you when I pray.
I'm worried that the music won't be there the next time I walk down the street. I'm worried that Time-bomb flavoured nights will not grace people's lives. I worry for NOLA too. I'm scared for it, probably not as much as you, but for that brief time I was there, the city sunk into my heart and captivated me. My heart jumps into my throat every time I hear 'Gustav' announced on the TV or radio, I turn it up and I pray that nothing happens. I pray that the music still plays.
I'm scared too.
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