uring the year of 2005, I was a young, naive child that did not entirely understand the different aspects of life, let alone natural disasters or why certain events occurred. That was my perspective until the day before Hurricane Katrina arrived in New Orleans, Louisiana.

Winds gusting, whistling peculiar sounds in contrast to the rhythms of the air, loose screen doors pattering against neighboring houses. The air filled with a lingering stench of sewage that could suffocate your lungs. A scenery of thick charcoal clouds coated the sky, adding a gray tint to the daylight at 1 in the afternoon. My once bustling and rambunctious neighborhood was now unfamiliar, appearing to be a ghost town with no one in sight. It was at that moment on the day
Ashley! Anthony! Pack some clothes quick, we’re leaving now, we have to go!” my mother shouted. Startled and confused, I stood from the living room sofa and watched as my mother’s concern grew as she watched the local news station. I remember seeing the eye of Hurricane Katrina on tv as it spiraled towards the coast of Louisiana. Suddenly, my body began to shiver, heart pounding overwhelmed with fear, my mind clouded with negative thoughts creating false scenarios thinking the world was about to end. Eventually, I manage to snap out of my trance-like state and run upstairs to my bedroom to pack clothes. I scanned my room looking for my Powerpuff girls backpack and rapidly started packing everything from shirts, jeans, pajamas,and undergarments cramming as much as I could into my bag. Afterwards, I dashed downstairs to unite with my older brother and mother. In the kitchen, we began to pack any non perishable foods we had. I scrambled upon bags of Doritos, pop tarts, and Oreo cookies and shoved them into a shabby Walmart bag as my brother did the same. “ Mama, what’s going on, are we in trouble?” I asked frantically. “ Yes Ashley, just keep packing, anything that we may need put it in a bag. I need to
I listened as each ring lingered on for what seemed like hours until someone finally managed to answer the phone. Evidently, It was my grandmother who came to our rescue, she was already aware of the disaster in the making soon to strike our beloved homes. She was our only source of transportation since we did not have our own car, therefore, we all had to wedge our belongings into her tiny Ford Taurus. Next, we headed onto the interstate moving into high volumes of traffic, there was a plethora amount of people trying to leave the city coming from all directions. “Where are we going? What about Grandpa and everyone else?” I asked concerned. “ We don’t know where they are, we can only pray they’re okay.” My mother explained. Cars just inches away from each other gridlocked, horns honking, drivers hooting and hollering, intensifying the atmosphere even more. After numerous hours on the road we rested at an old horse stadium turned homeless shelter for survivors and evacuees in Mississippi. We were stuck, all Louisiana cell phone towers were out of service, there was no way to call anyone. All around, there was the profound sound of people moaning in agony echoing around the stadium, crying over their loses. It was a dingy stadium that reeked of horse