i thought i would take some pictures, but when it came down to it, i didnt even take out the camera. familar roads were different somehow and i realized that it was because the treeline had changed; old oaks that once canopied the streets had been destroyed by the hurricane. within 5 minutes of being in the local store (read Wal-Mart), i ran into an old co-worker - she was the cook, i was the server. she was nice enough not to mention all those recipes of hers i sorta ended up with when i left. i also saw someone i recognized as an old friend of my older sister; it just happened to be a reunion weekend. she was striding purposefully down the aisle and i hid behind the shampoo. i saw a ton of people that knew me as a kid and that somehow, amazingly, still cared about me and my family. i chatted with my aunt and we exchanged cat stories.

the old house is a wreck; honestly, the worst house in the neighborhood. i drove by slowly, noting the trees that were only saplings when i left, the garage roof looking shabbier than ever, and this clenched my heart a bit, the little playhouse my grandfather made us, tilted drunkenly to the side; it seemed the ground was gently rising to catch it. that tiny house probably still held my secrets...there were little slots along the ceiling, not meant to be shelves or even pockets, but we made great use of them. code names like nancy drew, bess and george were written in and thats where our "mail" was delivered. my cousin greg smashed his fist through the window that one and only time i locked him in. i can still remember the look his mother gave me when attending to his bleeding hand. there was a giant frog that took up residence one summer and didnt mind that we kept buckets of tadpoles we captured from the ditches in there, too. it was a place i went to think, even as a teenager.

and now as an adult, i feel its loss.