This morning I stepped in the parking garage elevator with a small girl wearing a flowered dress and a Jackie Kennedy bouffant. This evening we stepped in the elevator at the same time again. She looked at me, me at her, and without a word she pushed the button for my floor.
This evening I went for a walk past the house of the man who may or may not have been attempting suicide a couple of days ago. A shaven and sober version of him is on the porch strumming a steel guitar. "Hey lady," he says with a very different tone. I smile like I've never seen him before in my life and walk on.
My life in New Orleans is like this at the moment, maybe because of a resolution to step out of my shell a little bit and join the mortals. And what I'm finding, down here in mortal land, is that for some reason you are drawn back into beginnings and endings and their reverse with the people all around you. Which is teaching me there is no real closure with the people who drift in and out of my life.
Only uncertain reunion times.
Can I Get A Witness?
1 week ago