Sounds of the Past

How long has it been now since I have heard the sound of my heels echoing down the metal ramps of the schools trailers. Since I have pushed open heavy metal doors to have meet air so humid, so thick that it would stop me in my tracks. Since I have walked down a hallway full of young men on the brink of becoming.

So much change so quickly. So much started and stopped and started again. So many places we can never return to. Important to remember that just because there are some places we can return to doesn't mean we should.

And I miss...sunrises over the Mississippi River, the sound of Jazz music on Royal Street, mornings on Bourbon Street, Cafe Ole and beignets, Miller McCoy, my boys, Jackie and Ben, Monica, all my TeachNola friends, daiquiris to go, Fritzels, Uncle Barry, drinking on the railroad tracks and sharing one large chair with Huey.

I hold onto the sound of my heals. The smell of the humid morning air. The city that played an integral role in my healing. The year that forever changed me for the better.