If you knock, you can hear how hollow it is.

What can I say about this past year that does not include the words bombed-out and depleted?

My mom? Gone.

My uncle? Gone.

Stability in the hood? Gone.

Retreating to the safety of a gated condo? Indeed.

I found out a lot about myself in 2011.  I discovered that I really had been living all this time.  When my mom died on March 1, I looked at myself in the mirror for a while trying to figure out what remained.  I guess all that remained was me.  A bit thinner.  Worse for wear.  But I was still in there.

I thought I would never laugh again.  Sometimes I do.  I thought I would never eat a good hot meal again, since my mom loved to cook.  I have.  I thought I would die.  I'm still here.

Then the fools broke in to my home.  Again, thought I would die.  Thought life was continuing on it's downspin. It wasn't.  It was making me stronger.  Prepping me to pull myself together.  Then I found myself questioning my then relationship.  The realization hit me that I needed not question what I was staring at.  Instead, I needed to question whether it was useful.  It wasn't.  I unpacked it.

So here I stand with the wreckage of 2011 right behind me.  Present and accounted for.