This old house feels like a long lost friend
My flight was delayed out of Los Angeles last night and I arrived in New Orleans around 3AM. When I walked out of the plane I smelled the familiar smell of the Louis Armstrong International Airport and then beyond. I got in the truck and WWOZ was playing back to back Johnny Adams – our native son singing his guts out as I made my way home to the bayou in the wee hours of the morning. I pulled up to the bayou, the street lights twinkling in the black night sky. I tried to creep inside but T woke up and the dogs and she came to greet me. Tin was sound a sleep on the video camera. I crawled in bed, home at last.
Oh yes, there is nothing like coming home. Nothing.