Life teeters on the edge of ruin.  It is Thanksgiving, November 23, and lacking gainful income prior to the end of the year will result in the downfall of my existence.  There exists the possibility I can cover housing costs for January.  And even that is in question.  Either I receive pay before then, or at least by then…

In only a small way, I find surprising my lack of employment for the past eight months works against me.  Perhaps too many people in the working world are ignorant of what a sabbatical is and why someone determines such a leave to be prudent and necessary.

Despite whatever façade I have employed since March, not working causes a tremendous emotional strain.  Having some form of professional occupation negates that impact.  My hope for a level of success in writing lacks the ability to fulfill immediate financial needs despite its promise for the future.

As the end of the year grows closer, the stress of “what if” supplements my increasing apprehension.  My mind constantly returns to The Kids.

The future is unwritten…