Just now, I woke up from a nightmare about being in the aftermath of a hurricane (not the storm itself). Slogging around all the time in the mud and the tremendous destruction. I became angry at Brandon because he was wasting food (realize that this may have more to do with my own food issues than with a hurricane!) When I woke up, my arms ached from squeezing a pillow.
But here's the thing:
I woke up.
And as we know, thousands of folks in Mississippi, Louisiana, Alabama wake up each day from their nightmares - to more nightmares.
Two days ago I was driving up Malone Street and saw something that caused my heart to smile - briefly. I said to myself, "Oh! The Hurricane lilies are here!" And in the next instant I realized that, from now on, hurricane lilies will, from now on, mean Hurricane Katrina to me, and I cried again.
I had some in the yard of our old house, but not at this house. I love them for their riotously baroque delicacy and beauty, and for their announcement of fall - scattered amid the falling leaves that begin to carpet lawns at this time of year. They come up entirely unexpectedly, with no leaves first, so all of a sudden, one day, there they are. And they naturalize, so they come up in places you didn't anticipate, either. I bet they are appearing in the destroyed yards across the Gulf Coast now, too, where the wreckage permits.
Is it stretching things too far to think that perhaps the lilies are like the small blessings that are popping up in the lives of our friends affected by this tragedy? And maybe a reminder that there will be beauty at the other end?
I don't know. But I do know that I need to get some, to remember every year. Maybe I'll go down the street tomorrow, and ask the sweet lady with so many if I could dig a few.
