photo by katiemarinascott

It was a nasty night in New Orleans. Torrents of rain–at once pounding and windswept. Filling and rising. We were sheltered, on the floor. The carpet was damp. My clothes were matted beneath me.

That night was unforgettable. But, the best part of the story happened ten years later in New York City, 2005.

It was the first day of the fall semester at The New School. I registered for a writing class as a continuing ed student. It had been over twenty years since I was in school, back then a psych major. I had recently started writing a novel (it chose me, I did not choose it) and it was time to decide what to do with this living, breathing…