Beyond the memories, those tattered blocks of foam have been my most tangible evidence of that last evening I spent with my girl.
Fourteen months after my industry showed me the door in a round of budget cuts, I have been embraced again by the craft I chose. Two weeks ago, I pulled away from my home of ten years in Waco, Texas to begin a new venture in Baton Rouge, Louisiana. But it also meant a temporary separation from my family until we sell our home. For my wife, it means single parenthood; for me, it means bitter loneliness and a certain amount of separation anxiety.
Also Enjoy: The Emotional Toll of Unemployment
