I was only 13 when Hurricane Katrina rolled up on the Gulf Coast and swallowed 80% of the city I grew up in and loved. Thousands of New Orleans residents, including my aunts, uncles, and cousins lost their lives in the storm. My mom, a single mother of just me, decided it would be best to abandon our tiny, government subsidized home in The Magnolia Projects, or as it was known on the street, 'Da Wild Magnolia'. We left everything behind. When evacuation time came, we thought the storm would pass and we could go right back to our normal lives. My mom working her two jobs, and me, doing my best to make it to school without bumping into one of the neighborhood thugs. Da Wild Magnolia wasn't the best neighborhood in the city... In fact it may have been the worst. I heard once that the Magnolia Projects were once considered to be the most dangerous in the city, but that's what mom could afford for us. 

When the hurricane hit, the entire Magnolia Projects, and everyone inside of them got swept away. They were run down anyway. Half of the buildings were vacant, but I couldn't help but cry when I heard the news that they were gone. I wondered if Mrs. Peterson, an elderly, handicapped woman, was able to get out alive. I later learned she refused to evacuate and was washed away with 80% of our beloved city. 

Though I grew up poor, I loved my home in New Orleans. The city was always alive with music, culture, parties, and the savory smell of soul food. After the flood, after we learned that everything was gone, and that we had lost everything, mom didn't want to go back to Louisiana. We moved up to Oklahoma City with a few of her friends she knew back in high school. We never recovered the bodies of her sisters and brothers or my cousins. We never had a funeral or memorial service. We had no money. Mom lost her job. The nursing home mom worked at as a CNA down the road washed away. My school was destroyed. We had nothing. Everything was swept right out from under our feet. Literally. We had no reason to go back. We had no way of getting back there, and nothing to come home to. 

After a year or so, I guess mom started getting homesick for New Orleans. We took a Greyhound down to the city for a short visit with a few of moms old work friends. When we got there, we couldn't believe our eyes. We saw news stories on TV of the damage, but even a year after the storm hit, half of the city was still under water. Debris was scattered across the city. The inland parts, where the rich people lived, those parts were cleaned up and rebuilt. Down in our old neighborhood, though, the place was still a wreck. The Magnolia  Projects were wiped out, and I wondered if anyone would ever rebuild them. No one seemed to care about the people of the projects and the poor folks who's homes got washed away. Over 20,000 people became homeless when Katrina hit, and over a year later, most of those people remained that way.  

We never went back to New Orleans after that visit. I don't think mom could stomach it. I miss the fishing, the food, my friends, and my family every day, but I wouldn't go back either. I've heard at school and on the news that all of New Orleans will be under water by the end of the century. I would never want to put my own family through a storm or loss like what Hurricane Katrina dealt to my mom and me. 

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Works Cited

McLaughlin, Elliot. CNN. 30 August 2006. 28 April 2017.

Reporter, AFP. Daily Mail. 15 October 2015. 28 April 2017.

Zimmerman, Kim Ann. Live Science. 27 August 2015. 28 April 2017.

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