Our Home, Louisiana...

Special thanks to the talented Jep Epstein for articulating what all of us felt, but none of us could articulate, five years ago.

Anais Nin once said, "The role of a writer is not to say what we all can say, but what we are unable to say." Mr. Epstein did that, seemingly effortlessly, for the citizens of Louisiana with this most beautiful song...

Five years ago, the much anticipated Hurricane Katrina came ashore, and at the time, none of us could have predicted the destruction that little bitch would leave behind.

And, I remember...

I was at Outback with a group of friends, about to go meet my children for a Bowling for Soup concert at the Riverfront Center here at home.

I was newly separated; quite intrigued with a man I should have never even tangled with, and more worried about what was going on in my little corner of paradise than what was going on in the gulf.

Hurricanes...

Yeah, we'd had 'em.

But usually when they got this far inland, they were little more than bad thunderstorms with a chance of tornadoes...

We'd lived with it all our lives...

No big deal.

New Orleans would live...

It always did.

The world worried and waited, and we just lived on, waiting for tomorrow.

Although I wasn't worried, I wasn't stupid, either...

I made arrangements for my children to stay with their father, and then I did what any woman separated from her husband would do at the hint of danger...

I went home.

To my husband.

His job as a catastrophe adjuster dictated we would stay glued to The Weather Channel from Sunday afternoon until the storm had passed to see where he would be working next...

None of us could have guessed that aftermath.

None. of. us.

I awoke on Monday morning to the sight of Matt Lauer standing in the middle of New Orleans, ankle deep in water, and thought, "What? The storm's been gone nearly 24 hours, and New Orleans made it. I don't get it."

I woke my husband up with a, "Get up. You're not gonna believe this."

For three days we watched as waters rose...

And people tried to flee...

Sending messages on rooftops, overpasses and by boat...

That people needed help.

Our people were dying...

Had died...

Our home was slipping away.

For that brief moment in time, two people who were worlds apart in their idiology and beliefs had to cling to one another, for at that time...

Nothing else made sense.

I remember dreaming of people walking in water at night as I tried to sleep...

I remember dreaming of people screaming at the sight of their loved ones slipping away...

I remember waking up to realize I was only dreaming what was going on in real life...

And, I remember the pain.

Oh, how I remember that pain.

Should you ever doubt what is important, just imagine it being ripped away.

Five years ago, my friends, I realized I was home.

The very place I had fought against was home...

And, there was no other place on earth I'd rather be.

Louisiana...

This is our home.