Two hundred miles from home.

I guess I must have had some kind of look on my face.

Frankie:  "Uh-oh."
Me:  "Uh-oh, what?"
Frankie:  "Somethings the matter, you look like that grey cloud from the breakfast sandwich commercial."
Me:  "I thought I was going to get through November without getting depressed."
I sigh heavily.
Frankie:  "Except for the day before yesterday, you were doing pretty darn good.  Did you sleep well last     night?"
Me:  "Yeah, I slept okay.  And, day before yesterday, was well...just a bad day...that had nothing to do with with my November slump.  Today I feel...I feel...I feel..."

Frankie was settling in, I know she wanted more, how was I going to be able to explain.  Maybe I should write rather than talk.  Frankie is looking over my shoulder, her arms firmly planted on the back of my office chair as I begin to type.

'---November is my month of melancholy, and I have always allowed myself to be swept along on the swells and troughs as each day slowly ebbs to December.  However, after last year's horrible November, I decided enough was enough and I was not going to let this month to get the better of me this year, or ever again.

This morning I awoke and felt as though I was two hundred miles from home.  You know what I mean?

It's like you've been on a fantastic, adventurous, vacation.  You're tired, and yearn for your own pillows, blankets and bed.  Excited to pull into your driveway.

You check the time, gauge your speed, miles traveled, and realize you are two hundred miles from home.

Suddenly you don't want your holiday to end.  The urge to slam on the brakes is overwhelming.

Breathe, breathe, breathe.

Why are these last two hundred miles so important?  It's that spot between a rock and a hard place...tiny, insignificant yet hugely important.  It's that space between getting out alive or getting crushed.

I've been hustling and bustling through November, it was a holiday/vacation, it had gone so well.  I was having a ball.  Then this morning I realized I had two hundred miles to go before the month was over.  I wanted to speed ahead and get it over with...but at the same time I wanted to slam on the brakes.  November had been good and I had accomplished so much.  If the month didn't end, I'd still have time to finish things.

What was I going to do with these last two hundred miles?---'

Frankie:  "Yeah, what are you going to do?"
Me:  "I guess the only thing I can.  Slow down...take it one mile at a time, accomplish what I can with each mile that remains...and pull into the driveway at midnight November 30th."