I left home to support my sister in her efforts to present a music festival. She lives on the other side of the world, and I went to visit her, not wanting to leave and feeling like I was leaving home against my will. However, I wanted to show her my support because she is my only sister. So I boarded the plane in mid-August, and hated the long flight. I arrived, tired and hungry. I had left my husband of 2 years, alone, in our old New Orleans house. I was all set and ready to perform for my sister for the music festival on Sunday morning when I received a call from Chicago. The hurricane was predicted to hit our city, and many people had already _ , but my husband chose to stay behind. He could not get a call to me on the other side of the world, but he could call his cousin in Chicago. He gave his cousin a message for me, that he would be just fine, and not to worry. As the day wore on, I finally took the stage in front of hundreds of Europeans, and I realized, thanks to CNN, that New Orleans was under water. I performed, hoping that my husband would survive. And I performed perfectly. The audience stood and applauded. I left the stage and went straight to the TV. I saw the street sign near my home, of Humanity Street, but nothing below it, except water. In the days that followed, I found out that my house, my car, my clothes, my furniture, everything that I'd left behind was gone...but not my husband. He survived by riding on the rear bumper  of a VW bus, holding on to the overhead luggage rack, in the pouring rain, down the highway from New Orleans, half-way to Baton Rouge. The rest of the journey was a long walk, but he survived. By the first week of September, I flew back to the Baton Rouge airport, and hugged my husband. Since then, our relationship has grown deeper; we have completely rebuilt our house, bought a new car, bought new furniture and new clothes and joined an inspirational, spirit-filled community. How did the author feel when she left home?
Disappointed. Worried. Tired. Unwilling.