I almost feel guilty for the joy in my life right now. My niece, Sonya Ducky, is an unlimited source of pleasure and love.

And the people in New Orleans are enduring the worst natural disaster in our history.

I marvel at the way she changes by the day. One-year-old Sonya is fast acclimating herself to her new life in a Brooklyn apartment. She settles into my sister’s nurturing arms with happiness. She squeals when my brother-in-law holds her in the air and makes funny voices. Meeting her grandmother yesterday, she was wide-eyed and responsive when she sang her new name.

And the misery in New Orleans is too much to bear.

I am discovering resources of energy and playfulness I had forgotten about. I giggle and goo with my little niece. Patty Cake, Peek-a-boo, ‘The Wheels on the Bus": it all comes back like a lost language.

The simple pleasures ofl life are completely out of reach in New Orleans. A morning cup of coffee. The laughter of young children. A quiet Sunday at summer’s end.

My sister’s calm and loving maternal instincts are in full force. The way she trills: Sonya, Sonya, Sonya. Every day this baby is bathed in love and attention (not to mention a plethora of bubblebaths). She is thriving in the stimulation of one family’s joy.

And the people of New Orleans are enduring the worst natural disaster in our history. For Sonya and all our children, the government owes it to New Orleans to make sure that something like this never happens again.