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And it's keeping him up nights.
The executive chef at Fresco's Waterfront Bistro in St. Petersburg hasn't slept well since Katrina came and went. The television is always on, even if he can't see it, even if all he can do is listen for a familiar bayou lilt. A "cher" here, a "dahlin' " there.
Esposito, 34, is desperate to determine that all friends and family are, at the very least, still alive.
"The power of nature, the fact that life can be gone in a matter of minutes ... it's an awakening," he says quietly.
He lived near Lake Pontchartrain in the early 1990s, after graduating from the Louisiana Culinary Institute in Baton Rouge, sharpening his skills in the gastronomic nirvana of New Orleans and its environs.
It's all familiar, and yet strange beyond belief, those water-washed landmarks on the news that keep him transfixed.
"It's altered my life in a more compassionate way," he says. "I mean, look around. All these hurricanes could easily have turned our way, and we have some of the oldest people in the country right here, in this county. It would be devastating, humanwise."
Specialists in trauma and stress say that what Esposito is experiencing could be devastating in other ways; namely, to his emotions. Like the hurricane survivors and emergency personnel in devastated communities, many Americans miles away may find they're not immune. To stress, depression, anxiety, hopelessness. To feelings of vulnerability created by nature and aggravated by bureaucracy. Even to survivor's guilt.
Why has the Tampa Bay area been spared? Charley was supposed to be "our" storm. Katrina could have been.
"Particularly since 9/11, we have learned that there is a clear relationship between television reports of the tragedies and post-traumatic stress disorder," says Charles Figley, a professor and trauma specialist at Florida State University's College of Social Work. "But this event is both similar and different to 9/11 because of the scope of the tragedy and the number of people involved."
Moreover, because Katrina was a natural event, Figley says folks need to expect the emotional fallout from a phenomenon called "second disaster." That's when things seem worse than survivors believe they should be due to human action -- or inaction.
"Just like after Hurricane Andrew, it's a 'Where's the cavalry?' kind of thing," Figley says. "We tend to be extraordinarily impatient and feel even more vulnerable. Some may be venting their anger and annoyance toward politicians when the underlying emotion is fear."
Actually, Figley says, anxiety is an appropriate reaction and may prepare us for future evacuations. That is, as long as Floridians don't succumb to what he calls "Home Depot rage" -- people fighting over the last sheet of plywood, the last D batteries.
Figley also says being informed about -- but not obsessed with -- hurricane coverage can be therapeutic. For psychological and safety reasons, certain questions need answering: What happened? Why did it happen? How is it relevant to me and my family? Why am I so upset about this? What if this happens again -- will I be safe?
"As an act of God, people can actually accept it more readily ... but the downside is, it could happen to you," Figley says.
Individuals need to watch for symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder. Those range from repeated, hellish nightmares to abandoning all plans, says Glenn Smith, in charge of the stress disorder unit at James A. Haley VA Medical Center in Tampa. People may forget simple things, even recent memories, and fail to enjoy events that usually give them pleasure. Many of these symptoms are similar to those associated with clinical depression -- with a distinctly anxious edge.
"Fundamentally, you should watch out for a real variation in mood," Smith says. "We do expect to see an increase among Floridians seeking counseling ... especially with our exposure to weather. People need to remember stress is cumulative."
Like Smith, Diane Fojt recommends limiting one's daily exposure to the news. As a trauma specialist with Hillsborough County's Community Crisis Support Team, she understands that people are riveted by recent events.
"It's like reality television at its worst, and they viewers keep waiting for someone to come up and say, 'This is a drill,' " she says. The looting and violence in New Orleans was "civil disobedience we don't see in this country. And in Florida, we are more sensitive, because there are constant reminders everywhere you go. Our own neighborhoods don't look the same."
Her advice? "Use that remote control for what it's there for: control."
Figley says it's not much different from dieting -- and a balanced diet is best. Giving may help, though it won't cure deep-seated anxiety.
"It's more than scratching the anxiety itch; it's about compassion and caring," he says, "and a sense of satisfaction."
Esposito has managed to begin his own healing. He has heard from some family and friends with old homes intact, old haunts still standing.
"As bad as this may sound, some of the people who are being relocated may get a better second chance somewhere else," he says. "I know they lost their homes ... but being from New Orleans is a state of mind. You can shut your eyes and listen to the sounds of jazz or blues, make gumbo to remember the smell, or simply look up at the sun. 'You Are My Sunshine,' remember, is Louisiana's state song." The National Center For Post Traumatic Stress Disorder has information and lists of symptoms. Go to www.ncptsd.va.gov/and click on "Topics."