Its a powerful moment when you realize you're doing too much. You're carrying too heavy a load. You're slipping.
I have to slow down.
Not everyone is intended to endure much more than a breeze.
Storms are creeping in cast me toward the tide and the winds are whipping at my body. I'm looking back and forth from the safety of the sand and the angry waves of commitments and subtle but sincere acceptance of projects and fundraisers and volunteer opportunities and shuttling shorties from one extra-curricular to the next, all in the name of socialization of the middle-class.
I don't want the waves. I don't want to drown at sea. I want sanity and safety and the comfort of my husband and children in the evening hours. I've come to dread the middle of each month with how overwhelmingly windy they seem. Its only November 2nd, but I'm already staring at the calendar for next week with dread.
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