Post-New Orleans

Humidity, heat, wind, rain, thunder and lightning.  All in 4 days. Soft gentile drawls, impeccable manners, yes, ma'am, yes, ma'am. Slow pace, what's your hurry? Swirling brown river, which way you headed? Clip-clop horses, buskers and fortune-tellers. You were all there too. Frizzy hair and summer night dresses, "might coulds" and blasts of cold air from inside a bar with an open front door.

Thank you to the sweet 86-year-old woman sitting in the shade by St. Augustine's church who blessed me for my journey home and reminded me that life can be just as happy as sitting in the shade on a sunny day.

Thank you beignets and café au laits, pecan pralines, pie, and bread pudding and seafood, so much lovely seafood and cheese grits, fried green tomatoes, and gosh I could cry just missing them.  For those I haven't listed, I miss you too.

Thank you museum docent, history and story, talking story, feathers and beads, pounds and pounds, dollars and dollars, thousands.  Pride and community, crazy talk and wild men, chiefs and queens. They don't march, they dance.

Thank you two young musicians on Royal Street, accordion and flute, beard and spiked 'hawk, playing something different than all the rest. Their dog, welcoming my pets and silly lovey talk.  The shaggy-bearded fellow with cut-off shorts and hard-soled shoes, tapping it out, banjo and harmonica. You played me out of town and I appreciate it.

Now I know what it means.