Katrina

I have been brave, and also cowardly, I think, to shut out the world for the past few weeks. I haven't been watching CNN, haven't been reading your blogs, haven't even unwrapped my beloved morning paper or clicked on nytimes.com since Katrina touched down. Once, at four in the morning, I accidentally stumbled on an Internet headline that read, "Thousands Feared Drowned in New Orleans."

I cried. Now I avoid the news smidgets on my homepage.

My memories of New Orleans are sketchy but tinged with the bright, bold colors of a masquerade. For my high school self, the city was as much a performance as a place - and it was one of my favorites among my family's many road trip destinations.

I can't believe I will not take my children to the same place I remember. I wish the world - and the country - my daughter lived in had not seen tragedy like this, although this is nowhere close to the first incident of its kind.

A news junkie, I've had to make a concerted effort to concentrate on my daughter's sweet face instead of the tortured faces of thousands who are suffering in the South. And shopping today with E., who was dispatched to Biloxi, I had to hold the questions inside. Although part of me feels guilty, I don't want to know what she saw.

Of course, I understand what happened as well as anyone else can. Not the details, but the meat of it. No amount of reading and viewing can bring the reality of a loss like this home.

My body, my heart, must be singly focused on creating love, making food and giving warmth to a single beautiful soul. I can't bear to look, or I worry I'll pass my sorrow and frustration on to my daughter, through milk or through mood. My bank account, however, will be directed toward giving food and warmth to a few souls in New Orleans.

E. and the other reporters covering the storm are some of my heroes. Knowing the sacrifices they made in the wake of the storm - the dangers they ran toward and risks they took without hesitating - has reinforced my decision to leave reporting and make mothering my job. Despite my longing to be out in the trenches, doing what I love and doing good for the world, I know that nurturing the little world in my arms is more important.