Slouching

Months ago, when I began this journey, it was with reluctance, trepidation, even fear. The bright image I held in my mind, however, was N'Orleans, reclining on the coast like a drunken woman, her skin moistened with sweat, her laughter roughened by smoke and late nights, calling to me in a smiling, musky voice, "C'mon, girl. Do this thing you gotta do and then we can do a little boogie together."

As I have dragged myself, slouching toward N'Orleans, I never dreamed that the journey I had begun was so great that it would not, could not, reach a successful climax simply by my puny effort. Now, in the midst of my miniscule labor, I see the great city herself, slouching toward me.

C'mon, girl. Do this thing you gotta do. And then we can boogie.