It came at me with all the unexpected force of a sudden dust storm. The winds kicked up quickly. The sand stung my eyes, making it impossible to see the force that took me by such surprise. I could only hear the whistle of the wind as tears streamed down my face. Within the cloud, I was bombarded, whipped, made to feel like nothing, reduced to a lonely pile of human remembrance. I was nothing, used up, tossed aside like an old tissue dancing about on the street, only to end up in the gutter. Once full of such hope and joy, the forces of nature sucked away the happiness once felt seeing new life.
 
The winds throw me to the ground. I cannot see. I am weak. I am tired. I want to give up. Why push on? What's the point? The wind thrashes at my skin, the sand hurts at it rips away at my hope for some happiness. I cover my mouth, barely able to breathe. Will it ever relent? 

The loneliness is forever.
The sorrow is forever.
The pain stings forever.
Don't tell me to hope.
Don't tell me to look at the bright side.
Don't tell me this too shall pass.
Let me feel my pain.
Let me search it, explore it, discover it.
Only then will I be able to see the sunlight after the storm on my own.
Start anew.
Still lonely.
Still sorrowful.
Still in pain.
The dust settles.

Meet Spock. Spock is dead. Yes, in an effort to clean the fish tank, I once again killed off the marine life I was trying to help. I do this about every 3 years. No, I clean the fish tank more often than that. But it seems the fish get sick of me messing with them and just croak after about 3 years. Luckily, the kids are getting used to it. There is a definite advantage to the kids getting older....maybe I don't have to do this pet thing too much longer. Don't get me wrong. I love God's creatures...I just don't want to take care of them! Which leads me to the ponderance of the day...Independence.

It's July 3rd. It's been a long, hard day. I woke up sick with the stomach flu and struggled to get 8 hours of work in. I had wanted to go to the fire works on the Lake, but my daughter begged me to allow her to go to a dance class at a studio near our new home. Ironically, it is a studio I am all too familiar with. It is in the same building where I had my mortgage business for more than 10 years. In fact, my now 22 year old son attended a summer camp at the studio shortly after his sister was born.

I strayed up to the third floor of the building while my daughter attended intermediate hip hop. I came upon this door. A door that once had glass and the name of my business etched in it. I felt odd. It didn't seem to penetrate me. I remember so many events there but none of them even seem real anymore. I turned around and walked back down the hall. Ten years I had walked that hallway...bringing both my kids to and from work. Struggling to be an independent business woman. But I wasn't. I had a husband who demanded my time, a business partner who demanded my time, kids who demanded my time....

I walked that hallway slowly...running my hand along the wall. It was all such a distant memory. I had struggled for independence. I stood a moment, looked both ways down the hall. Today I am independent. Today I dictate my own future. If this were a Steven King novel I would definitely have seen my old self, ghost-like at the end of the hall. A meek self...one whom I remember had so much to learn. So, I walked to the elevators and said good-bye to the old self. It was a good ritual for Independence Day. Now...do a buy another fish or not?