Walking through a Louisiana state shelter on Friday, I realized that I was in my element as a reporter.

Among the people who have surely lost their homes and now have to shower in trucks that came from as far away as Idaho, there was a kinship there that I just felt. These are my people. We don’t have a lot of money. We work hard. And everything we have worked for could evaporate in a blink of an eye.
Then I snapped this picture:

Stewart Jr.

Don’t know how old he is but he couldn’t be more than 5-years-old. He bugged me to take his picture. And I did. Was glad to do it and happy to see it came out.

This little kid smiled in the face of destruction and giggled.

And that maybe the meaning of life.

Worry and uncertainty swirled around this little boy. Anxiety fell like a curtain on the faces of the grown ups. And this little boy was happy.

He was near his grandmother and drinking out of a cup. When the world he knew had stopped, he had everything he needed and had this great smile on his face.

Familia Fernandez evacuated from Houston to Shreveport and it was all I needed. We were crammed in my small one bedroom apartment. I cooked. Mom cleaned. Sis and friends played PS3.

And it was all I needed.

The meaning of life.