Metairie

Nathalie and I went back into New Orleans to see our house, and to assess the damages. The first thing we noticed about New Orleans, more shocking than finding out that random segments of the city apparently had electrical power, was the rancid smell that was rampant throughout the town.

I have no comparison of this smell, and no way to really describe the stench that permeated the town. It smelled like overflowed sewers. Of rotting meat and vegetables. Of mildew. Of excrement. The city smelled like how hell would smell.

When we made it to our house, we were surprised to find that our neighborhood had both power and running water. We looked over our house and couldn't believe what we saw: Various parts of the roof were missing shingles, but there were no other structural damages. Other than a terribly mildewy bathtub, the interior wasn't damaged at all. There was evidence of floodwaters outside the house, but none got in and nothing of value sufferred any damages.

A mere 80 feet away stood the infamous 17th Street Canal, which was responsible for most of the flooding. Had the Canal breached to the west instead of the east, it would been our house sitting under 10 feet of water.

Nathalie and I said a quiet prayer as we stood outside our house, counting our blessings, and praying for those who were less fortunate.

Thank you again, my friends and readers, for your prayers.
Thank you God for sparing our house.
Thank you Mom and Charlsy for watching over us.