The tempting thing to write is something like, “hopefully, 2008 will be a better year.” How trite. Better? That’s a stretch.
I imagine that the process of slowly reconstructing my life, hopes and dreams from the pile of rubble that it is now, along with raising two young children on my own will mostly be a struggle far beyond anything I’ve experienced in any other year of my life. Oh, and figuring out how to make enought money to pay the bills, too. Oh, and trying not to go insane with grief.