The Reinvention: Finding Elsewhere in Louisiana
After divorce and displacement, Emilio Puig came to Louisiana with nothing to lose. What he found wasn't just reinvention—it was Elsewhere.
by Emilio Puig
At the end of 2013, I was told by my company that my job would be in Louisiana come 2014—if I wanted it. A few others got the same offer. Most said no.
But I was going through a painfully unexpected divorce and the end of life as I knew it. So I said yes.
In the meeting where this was announced, we were told we had a week to think it over. Consult with our families. In reality, I had no one to consult. My kids were still young, too young to have a say. No partner. No wife. Just me.
Others were asking for more information. I was quiet. I didn’t know much about Louisiana—only the reputation. And not a great one. But I come from Chicago, and if you ask people who've never set foot there, we’re all supposed to be thugs or victims. That’s another story, though.
I was raised traveling. Son of a diplomat. I’m not afraid of the new or the unknown. But this time, there was no father’s status or protection to cushion the landing.
Still, I wasn’t afraid. I was excited.
It felt like a chance to reinvent myself. Booze flows easy in this state, and at the time, I thought maybe I’d lose myself in it. I was suddenly everything at once for my kids—dad, mom, best friend, and disciplinarian. I didn’t know what else to be.
But I’ve never regretted moving here.
I didn’t know it then, but Louisiana would become my Elsewhere. Not the place people warned me about. Something older. A place where the map ends and something begins. And when I look at my life now, I realize: I didn’t just relocate. I crossed into something I didn’t expect. I found my own river, even if I didn’t know what to call it.
Further Reflection:
This essay is part of Bayou Elsewhere, where stories of reinvention, haunted ground, and alternate paths all meet at the edge of the map.
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