keep me anchored, keep me sane,

I strongly and deeply wish that we could have stayed in New Orleans for the rest of the week, like our traveling companions are doing - they'll be there until Saturday. We had to come back this morning, as I had to come to work (and work on a paper). I didn't want to feel down about leaving, didn't want to feel depressed about having to come back...but I just can't help it. For all the pain I'm in right now - muscle weakness, spasms, and some serious damage to my heels - and the hellholishness of the "guesthouse" we stayed at - it was pretty damn ghetto, and the hot water line to our section of the house busted, so it was all cold water, all the time - I can honestly say I was having a blast. I hope our friends have better luck the rest of the week.

We had such a good time. We started our Mardi Gras experience Monday afternoon and "partied" well into the night. Got up early Tuesday and continued having fun (though I was giving out very quickly and easily). We roamed around the French Quarter (always fun), watched parades (Monday saw Proteus and Orpheus, Tuesday saw Zulu - Rex ran too late for our tastes), and wandered into stores that struck our fancy, whether in the Quarter or in the Riverwalk. It was truly a lovely time - the weather was nice, we never felt unsafe, and we all got some nice pictures to remember the experience. The Trueloves, our companions, are wonderful to travel with: flexible, adventurous, and easy-going!

But I'm depressed now: having to leave New Orleans and come back to Monroe wrenches the heart in a way I can't quite explain. I want to live there, be there, more than anything, and now, in this moment, I am regretting so greatly not taking the job at UNO. I know it was not the right job, or the right time, but I can honestly say that I want to be there, and I might have endured another bad job just to be there. Eric and I can hardly wait to get down there; we've already decided that we want to try to live on Magazine - there's a section of it that's like a little community, and it struck our fancies greatly.

It's a twist in the soul to think about it all now, to reflect, to savor the knowledge that I slept underneath that purple sky, wreathed in the satisfaction of being there, having listened to the murmur of the Mississippi, and slunk through the streets of the Quarter. Yes, Mardi Gras is fun - but it's the soul of New Orleans, the spirit of the city, that sings to me, and I can't hear it enough. Only when I am there, living there, and her song seeps completely into my bones and my blood will I begin to understand what mortal peace is.