Sometime after the break, back in the house, sweaty and covered in dust, I am on my hands and knees trying to pry a dirty black chunk of something loose from the floor. I have been chipping away at this particular mound of garbage for a while now, but it seems one section of the mound has somehow become chemically welded to the floor boards. I twist the ossified chunk back and forth and it finally breaks loose. Underneath, a warped and bleeding wedding photo of a 24 year old Ms. Patty is revealed. She looks radiant. I set down the chunk, pull a box cutter from my cargo pant pocket and try to free the decaying paper memory from its toxic casing in the floor. But even with the blades microscopic edge, I cant catch a corner. The paper is decayed and crumbling as I slice at its edges. Small chunks of the photograph break apart as I try to save it. Im destroying it even more than it already is. This particular momento is lost forever and as this becomes abundantly clear to me, I burst in to tears.

The pain of New Orleans is too massive for me to comprehend, to epic to fully understand, but the preciousness of this certain memory, this personal time capsule, this 60 year old reminder of the happiest day of Ms. Pattys life, I CAN stare face to face. I CAN understand that loss, or at least let THAT specific sadness in to my heart. And when I do, when I crack open the gates of my heart to that particular loss, the rest of the unrecognized, dejected, rejected and ghostly lost sadnessess of New Orleans come flooding behind. They smash down my doors and flow in to my heart like the Mississippi herself.

I gasp for air and quickly learned that gas masks are not meant for crying. Like Darth Vader, I heave in and out for air as the filters on either side of my mouth strain to bring in enough oxygen. I drop the knife and dash outside trying to prevent anyone from seeing me.

(Stop this now!) I think to myself. (This is NOT ABOUT YOU! This isnt even YOUR stuff! YOUR life!) But I cant. I tuck around the back of the house, crouch by a tree and fall apart. Tears roll out of my eyes mixing to mud on my cheeks. I try to breath and let the citys loss pass through me.

Ten minutes later, I am quiet, still and quite relaxed. I hide my red swollen eyes behind protective goggles and head back inside. I pick back up where I left off, chucking bricks of debris in to garbage cans.