Seashells
June 4, 2006

Waking up this morning was a bit more welcome than I had originally thought it would be. As I laid my head down last night, my last thoughts included questions about making the right decision to come down here and work all summer, about sleeping in a house that is itself in the midst of being gutted and how just one step outside of my door the temperature feels like it’s about 125. Phew. Recognizing that I had been in my car for 9 hours, sweating; then to a meeting with another grassroots non-profit and on to the grocery store for food for the week- my state of mind last night was pretty weak and questioning most things around me.
I slept well last night; better than I had anticipated. I was hoping for restful sleep. I actually prayed for it before I drifted off to dream. And it’s exactly what I got. There wasn’t much commotion in the house when I woke up, and being that it was my first day, I wasn’t about to create any.
I have learned this many times about myself, the simple fact that if I’m not working on something, that I feel pretty worthless. I tried to relax this morning, as Sundays are our only days off and apparently the week gets a bit crazy, but it was hard for me to do that.
I got some assignments, if you will, from the current volunteer coordinator, cleaning up around the house outside-raking, sweeping and organizing a few things. As I was raking beside the house I came across a seashell. A seashell. The house that I’m staying in is right off of Canal St. (Yes for all of you Bourbon Street fans, its close) but the beach isn’t close. There are some marsh lands south of N’awlins, but a beach, not for at least an hour or so.
The thoughts of how homesick I feel, and questioning my decisions about being down here stopped. (Even if only for a brief minute or two) I had to really stop for a minute. I’m holding a seashell, that’s from an ocean, that’s at least an hours drive away from where I’m staying.
There are so many things out of sorts down here right now, even things as small and simplistic as seashells.
The thoughts of homesickness and questions dissipated for a bit, but the feelings haven’t subsided as of yet. I’m hoping for that when I wake up at 4:30 in the morning to be on site by 5:30 and finishing my day around 2. Not sure if I’m ready for that either.
What is it that I’m ready for? What am I looking for? Maybe I’ll find it tomorrow in the house that we are gutting. Maybe I’ll find it with the people that I’m currently calling my roommates. Or maybe I’ll find it how I found the seashell, in a place that it totally doesn’t belong, surrounded by things foreign to it, just waiting to be discovered.