Thankful\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nEvery New Orleanian has his/her own Katrina horror story. Homes were devoured by disease-infested water reaching from the wooden floors of the first level to the wooden floors on the second. Homes that were spared from the levy breach were ransacked by looters, leaving nothing but bare lonely rooms. I, however, don\'t have a story to tell. I\'m from a small town about fifty miles southwest of New Orleans; a small town that was spared by the wrath of Katrina. \r\n\r\nLarose is a modest town. It has more farm land then it does residential. The homes are modest like the town. My home, which is a few feet away from the bayou, is no different. It has six wooden columns painted white to help support the carport. The paint is cracked, and the wood is splintered. The house itself is brick. It is white with green mold growing in the grout. The driveway is buckled, and the roof has three different colors of shingles. All the windows have duct tape running down and across them. Mom says it is a cheaper alternative to plywood during hurricane season.\r\n\r\nThe house came with a kitchen, family room, three bedrooms and two bathrooms. As the family expanded, Dad built add-ons to accommodate. He constructed a living room and an additional bedroom, which was later split into two. The kitchen has a large spinning restaurant table. It was a gift from a friend that owns Kim\'s restaurant, a Vietnamese restaurant in Harvey, Louisiana. It is big enough to fit all eight of us. My first room had a Mickey Mouse hop scotch carpet; it belongs to my second oldest brother and his wife now. My second room had three iron burn marks on the carpet; it belongs to my oldest brother and his wife now. My parent\'s room had blue carpeting; it was the only room with its own bathroom. It was also the only bathroom with a toilet that flushes correctly. \r\n\r\nThe family room was also known as the praying room. It was the nicest room in the house. It had a pink floral love seat with two matching arm chairs. They were both covered with little decorative pillows my Aunt made. In the middle of the room, Mom showcased her Vietnamese tea set. It was placed on an old coffee table Dad refurbished. On the walls, Dad built shelves to display the statues of Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. It was the only room in the house with a rug. While praying I would often rub my feet through the fluffiness of the rug. I liked the feeling of it between my toes. \r\n\r\n This was my humble home for twenty-two years. I consider myself lucky. I can still sit at the dinner table and spin it till my eyes get dizzy in the kitchen. I can still play hop scotch in my brother\'s room, and I can still rub my feet through the rug in the praying room. Others can\'t say the same about their childhood homes. Their homes and their memories were flooded away. I use to be embarrassed of my modest home in Larose. Moving to New Orleans has helped me put things in perspective. Nowadays, I\'m thankful for my modest home in Larose.\r\n