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(Excerpt) I do not belong here.

I do not, I do not, I do not. I don’t belong in a place like this. I am not a country girl. I’m really not a city girl, either. I’m just a Perez from St. Bernard, just like the hundreds of other Perez clan members. I do not belong in this place.

But this is the place I’m in, and I’m grateful, to an extent. I’m so grateful that these people are letting us stay in their yard, offering us a spare trailer and a place for our camper. I am grateful for their hospitality and kindness, but that doesn’t change the fact that this is a place in which I was not made to be.

There’s no water here, and it makes me want to cry so much. I look outside the window of the trailer, and there’s nothing but grass, trees, and the downward slope of the hill. There are two houses on this giant lot, as well as their trailer (which they lent to us) and our camper. We had dinner in the house farthest from the camper. The son of the lady offering us part of her home was in town from Houston, and he fixed an amazing spaghetti dinner.

We had to walk there in the dark. There are no lights at night in this place. No stars were out tonight, either. It was just dark. No lights over the river. No orange haze coming over the levee, the lights of ships in the Mississippi River just across the street. Nothing -- just darkness and the cry of a million crickets.

I want to go home.

To read more, click on 'Just darkness and the cry of a million crickets' link here

(This printed edition contains journal entries from 'Just darkness and the cry of a million crickets' and 'Let me go home.')

Starting the day after Hurricane Katrina stormed across the Gulf Coast, killing thousands and chasing millions from their homes, 17-year-old Samantha Perez began to tell her heartbreaking story. This is the second printed installment, containing her second and third diary entries. To read all of Perez's work, including later  entries, follow link. 

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