One week later.

I’ve been home one week tonight. I’m struggling to remember New York and my life there. It feels like I’ve awakened from a dream that never really happened.

One week ago I remember getting off the plane brimming with excitement, with confidence. I was refreshed, ready to conquer the world. My dancing shoes were souled, I was raring to go. I was so ready to face the world with my new knowledge and experience. I couldn’t wait to wake up Monday morning and set the world on fire.

One week later, here I sit at home in Atlanta, on a Saturday afternoon. Alone, terribly sad, insecure. And totally confused about what my future holds. I can hardly relate to the me I was seven days ago.

You must understand that since I got back, my home of 20+ years went under contract. My husband moved out of town to look for work . . . and I’m preparing my last child – my baby – to leave the nest and go to college. A bit much.

Where do I go from here? I don’t know. My faith is strong and I 100% believe there is a rainbow at the other end. There is something much grander than I can even imagine.

But for now? A good, long walk would do me a world of good.

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