But the world goes on, and people disconnected from the town probably assumed that the area bounced back quicker than it did. Truth is, it has taken a while. And to date, there’s still work to be done. But last July, almost eight years after the storm, I felt a renewed sense of energy to Waveland and Bay St. Louis. That July 4th weekend felt as if the town was back in full swing — and it felt amazing to see all the cars, all the tourists, all the new places open. The night was dance-filled and infested with laughter. While things will never go back to how they were, that particular Crab Fest — an annual festivity — seemed like a turning point.  And I felt as if the town had finally gotten through a rough patch, an eight-year escapade of rebirthing itself.

However, just six months after that, I learned that some matters may never be restored.  In fact, in some areas of the town, time stands still. And the devastation remains.

To explain, some have not and will never rebuild. And my grandfather’s property has gone untouched, merely overgrown and changed by the natural elements. Weeds have taken over. A tree sprouted near the once kitchen. And rainwater floats in odd containers. The slab is there.  Broken tiles are there.  And the driveway shells are there.  But not too much else. I returned to his property on a mission: I wanted to salvage some of the house tile to use in an art project. Granted, I knew the tile would be aged and perhaps not usable. But I had to try. I had envisioned a plant stand of sorts. So I went to collect — only I found a lot more. Still on that land — years later — broken plates, a picture frame, two spoons, and a coin. The coin was a special find, and I have since made a piece of jewelry out of it.  But that is a story for another day.

I gathered whatever I thought I might use.  And I admit to being sad about the lack of care to the land, the property. All this time, and we have done nothing. Maybe, one day, one day soon…

After retrieving my sentimental debris, I went out in search of a cheap plant stand.  However, I could not find one within my price range, but I did stumble across a small, wooden tray.  And I thought, “Perfect! I will be able to throw items, jewelry, change, my book, glasses on here.”

The tile remnants that were once throughout the house are the prominent pieces. But you will see that the rusted picture frame made the cut, some broken plates, unidentifiable glass, and a couple oyster shells from the driveway. I do not have any memories related to the plates or the broken glass. I’d like to assume that they all came from my grandparents’ kitchen and cabinets, but truth is, the wind and surge could’ve just landed them on that property. I also have the theory that with time, items not visible then due to dirt, destruction, are now just surfacing. Or perhaps, when others have visited, these particular debris pieces were not worth retrieving, too broken, too damaged.

I did not have a design in mind. Rather, I just did not want too much space between the pieces. Also, I wanted to retain the texture, so I did not file down any sharp edges or worry about the difference in height. And then, I poured the grout mixture over the tile, wiped the grout from the top of the debris, allowed the grout to dry; next, I poured a clear coat over everything, making sure to remove any air bubbles that popped up.

Perhaps the grout was near its expiration, or maybe I did not give enough time for it to dry completely. But there are cracks, albeit tiny ones, in both the grout and clear coat. These are not visible in the image, but they are there. This simply means that I will not toss a pair of earrings on the tray. Also, I kind of like that they appeared, as they remind me that cracks may come, storms may happen, but we can pick up our pieces, make something new out of our chaos, and become a little less unbroken.

 [Originally published on previous blog in May 2014.]