``Being there will truly tell the whole story,’’ she continues. ``Again, I continually come back to how the heck people have coped with a total upending of `normal’ dad-to-day activities that we take for granted.’’

She tells me of seminars and town meetings in NOLA with names like Bouncing Back after Katrina. These meetings allow outlets for discussion and sharing of information and resources on how to handle the new ``normal post-K’’ life. They discuss the concept of delayed stress syndrome – as if they don’t have enough on their minds already.

She encourages me to make contact with a family friend, who has a 13-year-old son. They have gone to these meetings, and are trying to get back to their daily life. It has been difficult for them, she tells me. The city is still under a curfew, and they never know store hours of the supermarket or the pharmacy.

``I asked to go to my favorite restaurant,’’ she explains. ``When we got there, it was gone.’’

She continues: ``This will certainly give you a bird's-eye view of what family life is like now. Everyone is having a hard time coping, and they are looking for tools on how to get through it. Then there are the people who don't know that they need help or don't want it.’’

I ask if there was anything Mel and I can bring down. Something her friend’s family would need – essentials. She suggests gift cards. ``I sent my cousins Wal-Mart cards because they lost everything. So they were able to get exactly what they wanted. Meanwhile, a school in California adopted her son's school each kid received a care package. My friend thought it was very touching.’’

M.B. put much in perspective but left me wondering: How would I cope if I lost everything? Would I be able to bounce back? I realize now I don’t know what to expect when I arrive in the city with my daughter in 12 days.

M.B. hands me a CD with photos. I rush back to work, and in disbelief I look at pictures of the destruction. One of them from Biloxi displays intense emotion. It’s of a bronze statue of man that was toppled over in the hurricane. The arms are reaching out, and the expression on the face is pure distress. It’s an image of a call for Help! Behind the sculpture is the buckled cement of a road that led to a bridge that is no longer there.

I choose three of the most striking photos taken in the Lower 9th Ward. The one that resonates with me the most is of a collapsed house. The walls have been ripped away, and you can see dishes inside the kitchen cabinets.