So many move forward
but few move on.

Some remain stagnant,
lost but not gone.

The few that move on
know how to look back
and don’t use their storms
as an excuse to slack.

It’s hard and it’s tiring,
and I’m wondering how long
I can keep moving forward
before moving on.


20 years since Katrina
Before Katrina, I lived in fear of my husband’s anger, walking on eggshells for the sake of my kids.

After Katrina, the storm inside our home almost rivaled the one outside. Family chaos, his rages, my silence — all colliding under one roof.

From Katrina I learned:
• Everything can disappear.
• Nothing is permanent.
• And moving on isn’t the same as moving forward.

In the rubble where my home once stood, a sunflower grew. 🌻
That stubborn bloom became my reminder: even in destruction, life insists on continuing.

(Sidenote: My husband was a wounded Vietnam veteran who lived with daily pain and PTSD. He refused strong pain meds, fearing addiction, and didn’t drink. His rages came from that torment.)