This Moment: December 4, 2010 - 7:08 A.M.

I awoke to a multitude of sirens and the thought that I must have left the television on all night. No. The sirens come from the shopping district not far from my home. It is the annual Policman's Charity event at the local Walmart. The cacophony began at seven and has now ceased. Cars break the silence buzzing up and down the street. Traffic is unusual for a Saturday morning, but not when there are only twenty shopping days left. The trees outside my window are dull, but not yet completely barren in the early light. My dog is perched at the end of the bed, hunting the cars that pass before the house. He pounces on his hind leg and chews an imagined enemy. Abbreviated patches of snow mingle with leaves on the still green lawn. More cars, a train, and then a plane. It appears the world is awake and desperatley trying to reach its destination, somewhere, somewhere far away. I too, think that my life, my real life, is somewhere out there waiting for me to claim it, and that when I emerge through the milky clouds and land on the solid ground of foreign soil, my life will step forward, embrace me, and say "Welcome. You are home."