Something or someone is trying to get me to go back to New Orleans.
The past couple weeks the signs have been everywhere. My Smithsonian magazine had a gumbo recipe in it. The kids suddenly asked to watch The Princess and the Frog (a movie they don’t even like that much)—and then I had to work with someone named Tiana besides. The kids’ music school put up a poster of famous New Orleans jazz sites and clubs. While unpacking I found not one, not even two, but three old photo albums with pictures from New Orleans in them. And today my iPod insisted on playing Little Feat’s “All That You Can Stand,” which it hasn’t played in months, but this morning shuffled into the playlist three times!
So okay. I get it. New Orleans, you are calling me home. But it’s not so easy to drop things and get away. You’ll need to be a tad more specific . . . find me an opening . . . Something.
I am willing and able to love you the way you want and need to be loved, but as you are the Knight, my Lancelot, it is your duty to come to me, your Guinevere.