the eugene bean

They’re all I can think about.

Right after Katrina I had nightmares for weeks. Horrible nightmares, vivid nightmares, nightmares that consisted of water and mold and drowning and roaches. That period of time was so surreal I almost can’t remember it. And now I’m going home.

And the dreams have started again.

I wish I could say that the love of my family and my joy in seeing them is bigger then Katrina but at this point it’s not. Do I even want to go home?

Well, most of me wants to go home. But most of me is not all of me, and that little Chicken part just wants to stay here in Eugene where there was no hurricane, there are no roaches, and I can’t see the damage done to things and areas I love so I can pretend the damage never happened.

***Note to insulted family and friends:
I love you, I want to be with you, I want to spend time with you and get hugs and kisses and love and all the things I’ve missed. BUT, I am filled with trepidation and fear. And in this blog, I’m talking about the trepidation and fear.***

So how come the small, Chicken portion of me seems to rear her ugly head and take over? Why can’t I beat that Chicken down and tell her to shut the hell up? Why is she giving me stomach aches and chewing on my cuticles? Why is she making me dream about roaches?

Maybe it’s a survival technique. Maybe my Chicken is just preparing me for what’s ahead. Maybe she’s preparing me so that when I see my first roach in 5 months I won’t faint dead on the street.(Or the shower, or the living room, or the shed or the garage or anywhere you can think of because believe me, a roach will be there!) Maybe she’s preparing me for the devastation to the area of town where I waited outside of school for my boyfriend to pick me up, or where I rolled my skirt down to look cooler as I flirted, or where I went to dances. Or maybe Chicken is preparing me to see Alexis’s house where I spent countless hours hanging out, telling all my secrets, smoking pot, trying on Connie and Alexis’s clothes, getting ready to go out, and bonding with girls that were so very important to me.

Never in my wildest dreams did I think that the home I left in July wouldn’t be there when I was returning in December.

So, I’m scared. I’m scared for my home, I’m scared to see roaches, I’m scared to look at Mimi’s house, I’m scared to see Brother Martin and Mount Carmel, I’m scared to see Oakwood, I’m scared to see houses with blue tarps, I’m scared to see our Waveland house and Renee’s Bay St. Louis house, I’m even scared to see new refrigerators in place of the old ones that I was used to.

It saddens me that people have gotten used to this new way of life in New Orleans. So many people here have forgotten Katrina already and when I tell them where I’m going over the holidays they say, “Sounds great, have fun.” And I just want to scream and shake them and say, “Don’t you care? Don’t you give a crap about this? Didn’t you see the devastation???” But, I don’t say anything. I just bite my cuticles while Chicken laughs at me.

On the other, positive hand, I know my city. I know New Orleans; I know that Spirit that everyone likes to talk about. I’ve felt it. I can still feel it in my bones. I will be welcomed home and helped through my grieving process by the people I love that have already gone through it and are still fighting the everyday sadness that grips our city.

I will face Katrina and kick Chicken’s ass.