Evacuating didn't stop the personal storms from brewing

Thank you Texas... for your help and hospitality. For your care and concern. For opening your doors to the refugees. For welcoming us with open arms.

However, I can't live here. I'm not a Texan. I belong in Southeastern Louisiana. I belong to New Orleans. I'm going home.

Or as close to home as I can get right now.

~K~ and I are going back.

And this time I'm taking the cat but I have to leave my dog with my folks.

I don't know how it will work out. I don't know if I'll even be able to afford it. I have no house, no job and no school that can accommodate ~K's~ special needs. Yet. But I have to give it my best shot. I'm working hard to make things happen. I have only 2 days left.

I trying to arrange to stay as close as I can to my "former" home. I have a better support system in Louisiana - the other half of my extended family as well as good friends. Loving friends. Friends who are moving heaven and earth to help me, help us, come home.

And I'm crossing my fingers and saying my prayers that when all is said and done, I'll come back to Texas to collect the folks, and my dog and bring them back with me too.

It's not that I don't like Texas - some things here have been wonderful. ~K~ even says, in all seriousness, "the stars are brighter here". Which always makes me break out in song.... Deep in the heart of Texas.

Hurricane Katrina didn't just destroy the material aspects of our lives but it has damaged the personal aspects as well. Friends and family - relationships forever changed. Because of distance, because of adversity, and for me.... because....

Well, you see, it's been made abundantly clear, that while I'm welcome to occasionally come and visit my family here in E. Texas, in short, we cannot stay.

I've been informed that we, ~K~ and I, are a burden. By running their errands and cooking their meals and doing their laundry and taking them to the various doctors and keeping track of their appointments and coordinating schedules and prescriptions and injections and a multitude of other little daily tasks all while trying to work a part-time job and take care of/homeschool a special needs child...... and especially doing all of this while living in their house, we, ~K~ and I are considered a burden and financial drain on my parents. Nice huh?

I've been told "Someone around here can drive them to Wal-mart." As if that sums up my contribution to the care of our parents. It's always good to know where you really stand with some people (FYI - this is not what my folks say or think or feel, but at the moment they too are without a permanent home and are relying on the generosity of other family members).

Oh, unless of course I live my life according to how some other people - no names mentioned - feel it should be lived, within the timelines and guidelines and distances they specify. But that pretty much eliminates the incredibly close relationship that my daughter and I have with my folks. Not to mention the most crucial of my familial support systems.

Surprisingly, I have wants and needs and goals too and even if I am not in the physical or financial position to act upon them in the near future doesn't make them any less realistic or important to me. Some things take time and I'm running out quickly.

I'm just so very tired of it all. In addition to living out of plastic bags and sleeping in strange beds, I'm tired of constantly having to defend the choices I've made in my life. And after spending all day keeping ~K~ out of everyone's hair and picking up behind ourselves and the pets, I'm tired of feeling guilty that I have to completely depend on others right now, financially and emotionally, until I can sort through all the flotsom and jetsom of what's left of my life after not one, but two hurricanes.

So now, to make my life work, my way, I need the homefield advantage and to get it I have to be on the home field. I have to go. It's very hard to leave my family behind - and I'm referring strictly to my parents here. Oh. And the dog too.

And so the deadline looms. Two days.

But I'll be back. You can count on it.