Our Home, Louisiana...

I have been thinking for the past couple of weeks...

Sad, but not really knowing why...

Homesick, and yet, I am home.

Ever so proud, and yet, unable to articulate why.

The truth, people, is I am frightened out of my mind.

Everything I call home is threatened...

Oil is spilling out into our waters at a speed that no one can even calculate...

Our fishermen cannot fish...

Our oilfield workers cannot work...

So many families watching...

Praying...

Waiting...

Hoping for the best.

And, yet, my heart hurts for those 11 families that have given up the watching...

Praying...

Waiting...

Hoping for the best.

May God be with them.

May God grant them peace.

May God grant them speed.

The sad reality is those men are not coming back.

Life, as those families know it, is no more.

And, I am sad.

I have been that wife waiting on news after the flash on the television that something terrible has happened.

I have been that mother anxiously waiting and all the while, not allowing the children to know you are waiting on the news that Daddy won't be making it home...

I have been that family that all the world proclaims as awful because we are dependent upon fossil fuel to...

Clothe our children...

Feed our children...

Shelter our children.

Shame on the public for condemning a man for making a living for his family...

Shame on them.

As ever, Louisiana, the government and the fat oil cats make light of our plight.

I was in the grocery store this week, and I cannot even begin to explain to you what it felt like as I passed the seafood aisle and saw...

No shrimp...

No oysters...

No fresh Gulf seafood at all.

Everything in that store that identified "home" as "home" was not there.

I thought about those families, too.

I thought about the hopelessness that must be in those homes today...

I thought about how it was to be young and raising children, and knowing no other way of doing it...

And, I thought about not knowing when it may end.

Shame on those who attend sporting events, instead of trying to clean up their own mess they've made of our land...

Shame on them.

Once again, Louisiana, we are being called upon to pick ourselves up; dust ourselves off and start all over again.

And, I think of a tiny little boutique sitting on Jackson Street in my little town of Alexandria, Louisiana...

And, two children visiting their aunt that formulated a plan...

Lemonaid for the Gulf...

All proceeds going to clean the brown pelican...

Our state bird...

And, how their aunt, realizing their quest, put her own business on hold and took on a project that, even she, could not have imagined the magnitude...

And, I am refreshed and renewed.

This is our love...

This is our life...

This is our home...

Louisiana.

This is our day...

Come what may...

This is our home.