Katrina Was Here.

We're in New Orleans. As we drove over the bridge and saw the Superdome, Momma C and I paused in silence remembering pictures of people who flocked to the stadium after Hurricane Katrina--the worst natural catastrophe on American soil.

There's no way we could really understand the aftermath without seeing the damage, the adversity, the heartbreak for ourselves.

Momma C and I drove through the Ninth Ward--sight of the most devastation after the hurricane hit. It's where one of the levees broke and Lake Pontchartrain poured into this section of the city, water reaching rooftops and wiping out almost all of the homes.

We saw the homes, gutted and unlivable. We saw people living in FEMA trailers sitting next to mounds of trash, ten feet away from a dilapidated one-story house. We saw X's on the houses, the spraypaint remains from officers who marked them for dead.

Two years later, parts of the city look exactly like the photographs from August 28, 2005. It was an eerie site, an emotional site.

When we got back from the Ninth Ward, we walked into a shop in the French Quarter and met the owner Vanessa. Vanessa stood 5 feet, 7 inches, with ripped jeans and a white shirt, her blonde hair pulled back with a small black barrette. We asked her if she experienced Katrina. She told us her story.

Vanessa pulled out four books about Katrina and together we sifted through them page-by-page. Each page was a new image, a new glimpse into the pain of all who suffered, and a new chapter of her story.

She told us how she returned to New Orleans after two months, but not before Katrina broke apart her family. Her husband of 21 years walked out on her after the storm because he couldn't deal with going back to New Orleans. Her 17-year-old daughter fell into a depression from the trauma. She switched into three different high schools because no school would open in time for her to finish senior year--no prom, no school ring, no senior fling. Today, her daughter attends college seven hours away, leaving the pain of Katrina behind.

For Vanessa, it took her two years to rebuild, nearly depleting all of her savings. Yet, she refuses to leave New Orleans. It's her life. It's her livelihood. It's where she'll be forever.

But, when it rains, Vanessa told us she still gets scared. She will not drive in the rain. She checks the television, radio, and Internet for hurricane watches. She remembers Katrina.

It rained this morning.

She got a ride to work.