musings and ramblings on life and motherhood in post-k new orleans
I can’t believe I’ve never noticed it before—this morning on my way to work, driving down Canal Street, I realized that all of the oak trees have flood marks, too. I don’t know why that should surprise me—it doesn’t really. I guess I’ve just been so focused on examining the brown lines on the buildings, imagining how deep in the water I would be, that I’ve neglected to look at the trees. For some reason, it makes me even sadder to realize that even the stately live oaks around the city weren’t spared the always-present reminder of what happened here last August.