14 May

by Rox’E Homstad

Spring time in New Orleans. Fresh strawberries and that Strawberry
Abita beer I love so much. Flowers and shrubs blooming everywhere.
Those nasty stinging caterpillars dropping out of nowhere to leave you
with a souvenir of their passing which will last for days. This time
of year is the same time six years ago when I made my way out of exile
in Memphis, TN. back home after the failure of the federal levees.
There is a section of “The Prophet” by Kahlil Gibran which sums up my
leaving of Memphis well.
“Long were the days of pain I have spent within its walls, and long
were the nights of aloneness; and who can depart from his pain and his
aloneness without regret?
Too many fragments of the spirit have I scattered in these streets,
and too many are the children of my longing that walk naked among
these hills, and I cannot withdraw from them without a burden and an
It is not a garment I cast off this day, but a skin that I tear with
my own hands.”
On the 26th of March, I packed my worldly goods into a U-Haul and
drove back home. I was coming home to much welcome, but also to much
I remember getting out of the car once we had arrived at my new
temporary home. The city still had that smell. It’s an undefinable
smell, mixed of equal parts decay, death, and desolation. And the
mold… we must not forget the mold.
That night, friends had come to help us move our things. After
unloading the truck, we trooped over to Franky and Johnny’s for some
soul food.
Those first few weeks were a blur. I saw clients every day with
stories of being pulled from rooftops, watching their children die,
and floating on kitchen appliances in filthy waters. I listened. I
helped where I could.
Things started getting quieter and quieter in my world. I couldn’t
hear the phone. I couldn’t hear my clients or coworkers. In six weeks
my hearing was gone, and I didn’t know what I would do. I was in a
city with very limited medical services. The wait to see an
audiologist is long. He is so shocked by the sudden loss, and he fears
I may have some obscure form of inner ear cancer.
I wait some more, finally get an MRI, and wait even longer only to find
out that I do not have obscure and deadly ear tumors. But I’m still
deaf, and navigating a city full of crime and debris which would
easily fall into the category of biohazardous totally deaf and almost
totally blind. I was more alone and afraid than I can ever remember
The doctors tell me that it’s the mold in the city which has caused my
inner ear disease to flair up and take my hearing. It’s like a bad
country-western song. “Katrina done took my house and my hearing and
my city.” The only thing missing is a part about trains and betrayed
People ask me if I regret coming back. If I knew what would happen to
me, would I have gone back? And my answer will always be hell yes!
Because I would rather be deaf in New Orleans than hearing and live
anywhere else.
The New Orleans native and author Poppy Z. Brite once said:
“If you belong somewhere, if a place takes you in and you take it into
yourself, you don’t desert it just because it can kill you.”
I have known from the very moment I first arrived here. On that gray
and rainy day nine years ago. I knew that this is where I wanted to
live for the rest of my life. I want to work here, and be in love
here, and train dogs here. When I am old, I want to sit on my porch
here, and drink whisky in my lemonade on muggy July afternoons. And I
want to die here, and I want this place to be better for me having
been a part of it. I am certainly better for it being a part of me.
This whole time, when I struggled every day for simple communication,
I took strength from my clients. They would tell me how I gave them
hope for the future. But what they would never know is that really, it
was the other way around.
And so it’s spring again– a time which makes me think about great
love, and great inspiration. It makes me think of renewal and
redemption and hope.
And I pass one more season under a sky of vibrant blue, sitting on my
porch drinking Strawberry Abita beer and knowing that I am truly


Rox’E Homstad says she lives in a rundown house in New Orleans, sharing my life with her husband and their four dogs– all of whom are retired or working assistance dogs.  By day she is a braille and activities of daily living instructor for blind and deaf-blind adults.  She owns a small business doing dog training and herbal consultations for pets.  She loves to cook, read, and is trying to teach herself to grow plants.  Her website is http://www.pawpowercreations.com.


One Response to “Spring”


  1. On Not Hearing… | Life Unscripted - August 15, 2015

    […] scientific advances to improve it.  But another friend of mine whose deafness was unexpected and fairly sudden has chosen not to hope for a scientific cure.  She says that deafness is now just a part of who she […]

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