Edit 22: When I’m Home
When I’m home…
I return to a lifetime of familiarity—streets are wearing their best jewelry, faces are bedazzled beneath wildly creative hairstyles, wigs and headpieces. Restaurants are fully committed to the season. Places know my order. This time of year New Orleans is a city that keeps time by parades and not much else.
When I’m home…
Time doesn’t just slow down, it loses interest altogether—unless you’re part of a Krewe. For the rest of us, days don’t usually arrive with fully-formed plans, they evolve as the day progresses. Meals linger around tables filled with family and friends. Dessert and drinks are never debated. Moderation is politely (if not pointedly) ignored.
When I’m home…
I return to my favorite places and flavors with just enough curiosity to try something new—though let’s be honest, I’m still ordering the thing I always order. Growth is important, but consistency is comforting.
When I’m home…
Joy isn’t something you look for because it’s already there. It’s a part of the atmosphere—it’s in the air you breathe, settling into your shoulders, buzzing in your ears and lingering in your heart long after the parades end. It leaves you finding beads in your bag days later—a bit of the city’s jewelry you didn’t realize you were still carrying—along with glitter you’ll discover in unexpected places.
When I’m home…
New Orleans wraps me up in her particular brand of revelry. Even the quiet moments hum. There is heart here. Creativity. History. Hospitality. A city—and a community— that holds the firm belief that no problem exists that can’t be softened by good food, familiar faces, and an extra drink. Stay a while and you’ll learn that it’s true.
Because when I’m home—especially at this time of year—there’s really only one rule worth following:
Let the good times roll.
Or as we’re fond of saying…
Laissez les bon temps rouler.
