As I write there is a small thunderstorm outside my window. Miami has needed the rain for a while; even my aloe has turned brown. Moreso, I have needed it.

This week I've been enduring a bit of unwelcome introspection. Most of last week was spent focused on the past, and this week's return to the office has forced a hard look at my future career. This convergence brought about a nearly overwhelming fatigue. I feel as though each of my cells is anchored to the core of the earth with silver wire, gently but insistently tugging me toward the ground, forcing me to expend considerable energy in simply remaining upright.

But now I stand at the window with my coffee, watching the sidewalk darken, and listen to the sussuration of the wet wind though the fronds, and feel a clean calm. I breath in the thunder and let it swirl around my chest, and the invisible filaments go slack.