I've learned that marking time changes as we get older. On April 30, 2006, the Sunday of the first Jazz Fest weekend after Katrina; I was here with Bruce, both of my brothers and my friends. My home of 26 years had been flooded, my debris removal man was leaving me to move on to another storm site, and Dali and Sam and I were set to come to France at the end of May so I could clear my head and make some very difficult decisions.
One would think that's enough, huh? During Bruce's performance, my cell phone (that I swore I'd NEVER have) rang. The son of one of my friends here in Cadrieu had called to tell me that my friend's partner had died. I didn't really know what to say in that very surreal moment...huge loss in France, Bruce singing about dead bodies floating on Canal Street in New Orleans. All I could say was how sorry I was and I'd try to call tomorrow from someone's house who had a working landline.
So today, almost 6 years to the day, Bruce returns to New Orleans. So today, almost 6 years to the day, my friend and I will share dinner together tonight at the Chatette to mark an important day in our shared history and friendship. It's impossible to share those histories and memories with everyone. Although those memories may be full of sadness and loss, marking those moments is special. When we share we know that we don't forget.
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