Authors: Anne L. Watson
Pacific Avenue (28 page)
~ 33 ~
September 1975
Over New Orleans
Kathy
September 1975
Over New Orleans
Kathy
The plane circled above Lake Pontchartrain. From my window
seat, I looked out over the lights along the river and across the bridge,
marking my path home. I’d never flown into New Orleans before, and I would have
taken a Greyhound this time, but Lacey had insisted on buying me this ticket. I
loved coming back like a princess on a flying carpet. It made me feel how much
had changed.
seat, I looked out over the lights along the river and across the bridge,
marking my path home. I’d never flown into New Orleans before, and I would have
taken a Greyhound this time, but Lacey had insisted on buying me this ticket. I
loved coming back like a princess on a flying carpet. It made me feel how much
had changed.
When I’d called and told Richard what I’d decided, he
said he didn’t think it would be long before he was released. But he wouldn’t
go right back to Gretna. He was going to Texas first, to spend some time with
his parents.
said he didn’t think it would be long before he was released. But he wouldn’t
go right back to Gretna. He was going to Texas first, to spend some time with
his parents.
“Your
parents
?”
I’d nearly dropped the phone. “How did you make up with
them
?”
parents
?”
I’d nearly dropped the phone. “How did you make up with
them
?”
“I let Sam tell them the whole story. It was my dad who
got the lawyer.”
got the lawyer.”
“Are they going to be weird about us, the way my
parents were?”
parents were?”
There was a pause at the other end of the line. “Does that
mean you’re coming back to me?”
mean you’re coming back to me?”
I thought it did, but I wasn’t sure. I was coming into
New Orleans as I’d come into San Pedro, not knowing the future—but I wasn’t
afraid of it anymore. And I wasn’t in a hurry about it either—not to marry,
certainly not to have another child. Maybe someday. Maybe with Richard. I
didn’t know, and didn’t need to know.
New Orleans as I’d come into San Pedro, not knowing the future—but I wasn’t
afraid of it anymore. And I wasn’t in a hurry about it either—not to marry,
certainly not to have another child. Maybe someday. Maybe with Richard. I
didn’t know, and didn’t need to know.
Maybe one day I’d even be friends with Mom again. Maybe
she’d change her mind about things. Remembering Dad, she might learn from who
he’d been. I wanted to be ready if she did.
she’d change her mind about things. Remembering Dad, she might learn from who
he’d been. I wanted to be ready if she did.
The dark lake below us was crossed by the Causeway’s
twin lines of light. Over in Gretna, the Motley family would all be asleep. But
I imagined them the way I knew them best.
Eddie at his stand, with the smell
of fall tomatoes filling a hot afternoon. Francine in the kitchen, cooking some
wonderful Creole dish, shallots and shrimp on the cutting board beside her. Dom
and Joss admiring their phoenix kite, longing to be old enough to fly it by
themselves. Sam and Sharon walking hand in hand in the Quarter.
twin lines of light. Over in Gretna, the Motley family would all be asleep. But
I imagined them the way I knew them best.
Eddie at his stand, with the smell
of fall tomatoes filling a hot afternoon. Francine in the kitchen, cooking some
wonderful Creole dish, shallots and shrimp on the cutting board beside her. Dom
and Joss admiring their phoenix kite, longing to be old enough to fly it by
themselves. Sam and Sharon walking hand in hand in the Quarter.
I even saw Dad and Jamie as I’d imagined them the day
Richard and I walked in our glitter-spangled clothes.
Dad, younger than when
I saw him last, Jamie older, maybe about nine. Dad, holding Jamie’s hand, bends
down to listen to what she’s saying.
Richard and I walked in our glitter-spangled clothes.
Dad, younger than when
I saw him last, Jamie older, maybe about nine. Dad, holding Jamie’s hand, bends
down to listen to what she’s saying.
The Dylan Thomas poem I thought of that day: “They
shall have stars at elbow and foot . . . and death shall have no dominion.”
Jamie’s face is turned up toward Dad as they walk away. But they stop and look
back when they reach the corner, smile and wave, a little girl and her
grandfather going on an adventure.
shall have stars at elbow and foot . . . and death shall have no dominion.”
Jamie’s face is turned up toward Dad as they walk away. But they stop and look
back when they reach the corner, smile and wave, a little girl and her
grandfather going on an adventure.
I almost waved too, sitting there on the plane.
Xin
chào, Dad. Xin chào, Jamie. And tam biêt.
Xin
chào, Dad. Xin chào, Jamie. And tam biêt.
Xin chào, Martin and Thu, working on the new puppet
play. Maeterlinck’s
The Blue Bird,
about two children who go on a magical quest one Christmas Eve, seeking the joy
that has always eluded them. They only find it when they return home, where it
was waiting for them all along.
play. Maeterlinck’s
The Blue Bird,
about two children who go on a magical quest one Christmas Eve, seeking the joy
that has always eluded them. They only find it when they return home, where it
was waiting for them all along.
Dark blue for the backdrop, with little stars like
sweet-olive blossoms. The bird can be a lighter blue, greener, almost turquoise.
I’ll need designs for the other puppets, too—the children and the fairy, the
dog and the cat, all the odd characters they meet on their journey.
sweet-olive blossoms. The bird can be a lighter blue, greener, almost turquoise.
I’ll need designs for the other puppets, too—the children and the fairy, the
dog and the cat, all the odd characters they meet on their journey.
I wish I had my pencils, and time to make one quick
sketch. But it doesn’t matter—I won’t forget.
sketch. But it doesn’t matter—I won’t forget.
Anne L. Watson
, a retired historic preservation architecture
consultant, is the author of several novels, plus books on such diverse
subjects as soapmaking and baking with cookie molds. Anne has lived at various
times in New Orleans, Baton Rouge, and San Pedro, California, the settings of
Pacific
Avenue.
She currently lives in Friday Harbor, Washington, in the San
Juan Islands, with her husband and fellow author, Aaron Shepard. Please visit
her at
, a retired historic preservation architecture
consultant, is the author of several novels, plus books on such diverse
subjects as soapmaking and baking with cookie molds. Anne has lived at various
times in New Orleans, Baton Rouge, and San Pedro, California, the settings of
Pacific
Avenue.
She currently lives in Friday Harbor, Washington, in the San
Juan Islands, with her husband and fellow author, Aaron Shepard. Please visit
her at
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