3 weeks, and one day ago today, i left new orleans with my mom, sarah, and christopher. feels like years ago.
we're going home tomorrow. me and my dad. going home to begin cleaning our house. mom is going to stay here in fairhope, alabama, because christopher is now in school. the plan is to go back and forth to trade off - so mom can get back to see her house and i can be the grownup and get christopher to school and swim practice here. going back for good is just as complicated as getting out, it seems. my parents can't officially be back in new orleans until st. catherine is open for christopher - even though our house is habitable. (eh, we didn't really need anything on the first floor, right?) for some people, there is the added dimension of whether there is employment in the area. i guess there's a small blessing that my dad does the things he does with the internet and phone calls.
for those who have watched me argue with krentel, who have eaten homemade waffles or redbeans and rice (or SANDWICHES! mmm sandwiches), or have drunk frozen margaritas (on the fourth of july, perhaps?) at our bar/kitchen, the barchairs survived, but they are currently jammed between the bar and the buckled floor. i think a very VERY small part of my mom's subconscience is glad - she's going to get a new kitchen when this is all over. but i digress.
obviously, my feelings change from moment to moment. i haven't yet really sorted through my feelings of loss, of disappointment, of confusion, or a general fear about what i'm supposed to be doing right now. which direction i'm supposed to go. where i'm supposed to be. where is it PRACTICAL for me to be. (ew, being pragmatic. soooo not me. give me the whimsical anyday.) who i am supposed to be with. it's way too much to be holding in. but as i told my wonderful roommate before she left for peru yesterday, there will be a night where i'm going to need to cry and yell and pound a pillow and then get a really big hug. i feel sorry for the person that is going to have to witness that.
the good thing is knowing that i'm 22 and can do whatever i want. and knowing that what i want is to settle in new orleans.
my dad has this delusion that life is better in fairhope, alabama. he has these dreams of being able to sit at this coffeeshop in the middle of "downtown" and be in the company of artists and authors (because that's pretty much who lives in this little bohemia). he loves the little shops - filled with antiques and books. he loves the little cafes and pubs and how friendly the people are.
and he's right. it's a wondefully quaint place.
but i just want to yell at him, YOU CAN DO THAT IN NEW ORLEANS. YOU CAN HAVE ALL THAT IN NEW ORLEANS.
i want to remind him of how he and mom used to live off of esplanade ave, and take me in my little carseat to cafe du monde at 6am on saturday mornings when i was a newborn. and how, 22 years later, the vietnamese woman that STILL works at cafe du monde, recognized them and remembered them bringing me in a carseat. or how he WILL NEVER EVER be satisfied with a church unless they skip the sign of peace, give communion at a communion rail, and say the important parts of mass in latin - all things that st. patrick's in the warehouse district offers. i want to remind him of how in new orleans, everyone is related to everyone else in less than 6 degrees. or how good the soufle potatoes are on christmas eve at antoine's or a sunday afternoon dinner at galatoire's (and he first took me to galatoire's when i was 6 weeks old). i want him to remember how on saturday afternoons, he would take us on a streetcar ride all the way down st. charles ave., only to turn around at canal street to ride all the way back up to grab a hamburger at the camillia grill. because God knows, I want to give my kids the same memories.
we're going home tomorrow. me and my dad. going home to begin cleaning our house. mom is going to stay here in fairhope, alabama, because christopher is now in school. the plan is to go back and forth to trade off - so mom can get back to see her house and i can be the grownup and get christopher to school and swim practice here. going back for good is just as complicated as getting out, it seems. my parents can't officially be back in new orleans until st. catherine is open for christopher - even though our house is habitable. (eh, we didn't really need anything on the first floor, right?) for some people, there is the added dimension of whether there is employment in the area. i guess there's a small blessing that my dad does the things he does with the internet and phone calls.
for those who have watched me argue with krentel, who have eaten homemade waffles or redbeans and rice (or SANDWICHES! mmm sandwiches), or have drunk frozen margaritas (on the fourth of july, perhaps?) at our bar/kitchen, the barchairs survived, but they are currently jammed between the bar and the buckled floor. i think a very VERY small part of my mom's subconscience is glad - she's going to get a new kitchen when this is all over. but i digress.
obviously, my feelings change from moment to moment. i haven't yet really sorted through my feelings of loss, of disappointment, of confusion, or a general fear about what i'm supposed to be doing right now. which direction i'm supposed to go. where i'm supposed to be. where is it PRACTICAL for me to be. (ew, being pragmatic. soooo not me. give me the whimsical anyday.) who i am supposed to be with. it's way too much to be holding in. but as i told my wonderful roommate before she left for peru yesterday, there will be a night where i'm going to need to cry and yell and pound a pillow and then get a really big hug. i feel sorry for the person that is going to have to witness that.
the good thing is knowing that i'm 22 and can do whatever i want. and knowing that what i want is to settle in new orleans.
my dad has this delusion that life is better in fairhope, alabama. he has these dreams of being able to sit at this coffeeshop in the middle of "downtown" and be in the company of artists and authors (because that's pretty much who lives in this little bohemia). he loves the little shops - filled with antiques and books. he loves the little cafes and pubs and how friendly the people are.
and he's right. it's a wondefully quaint place.
but i just want to yell at him, YOU CAN DO THAT IN NEW ORLEANS. YOU CAN HAVE ALL THAT IN NEW ORLEANS.
i want to remind him of how he and mom used to live off of esplanade ave, and take me in my little carseat to cafe du monde at 6am on saturday mornings when i was a newborn. and how, 22 years later, the vietnamese woman that STILL works at cafe du monde, recognized them and remembered them bringing me in a carseat. or how he WILL NEVER EVER be satisfied with a church unless they skip the sign of peace, give communion at a communion rail, and say the important parts of mass in latin - all things that st. patrick's in the warehouse district offers. i want to remind him of how in new orleans, everyone is related to everyone else in less than 6 degrees. or how good the soufle potatoes are on christmas eve at antoine's or a sunday afternoon dinner at galatoire's (and he first took me to galatoire's when i was 6 weeks old). i want him to remember how on saturday afternoons, he would take us on a streetcar ride all the way down st. charles ave., only to turn around at canal street to ride all the way back up to grab a hamburger at the camillia grill. because God knows, I want to give my kids the same memories.
maybe it's a lost cause. but then again, it's good to remind myself why i love this place. i'm throwing in the towel yet.
"the very thought of you makes me stop before i begin. because i've got you under my skin."
posted by Catherine at 8:26 PM
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