VIOLET, LA. the weather is getting cooler again in the south. i sleep in a small one-story house on guerra street. the walls are partially covered to make a few bedrooms, the ceiling is open. the floor, bare concrete. i have lived on this plot of land since april, camping at first, now sleeping on a queen-size mattress. we are still without electricity and that seems alright with all of us. in april it was spark and i, now there’s seven of us who call it home, cots creaking, kitten playing in the middle of the night. a new volunteer told me tonight about an email he had received from  someone who i met in april, a group leader with a universilist unitarian assemblage; he knew all about be, he said, from this email message. it seemed he was comparing the two, the person he knew through words and the person standing in front of him. that’s funny, i said. was the message detailed? he said she said i was levelheaded and one to really help begin important work with the community. her name is wendy, i don’t really remember exactly who shi is from my foggy memory, and it’s intruiging to hear she developed such a positive impression of my work from one week volunteering at HOPE. but i do remember being extreamly motivated and steadily confident during that period at HOPE. it was in the month of april, a moment of transition for our organization (moving out of the church and into a community building temporarily donated to us), and an opportunity for me to step up to coordinating things at HOPE and being key in the organization itself. i’m glad to have made a good impression. even more so, i’m glad i’m still here today.