It's coming together.

The alarm on my cell phone sounds at 7:05 a.m. to the tune of Fuer Elise.

I roll out of bed with a different attitude than I had one month ago when my alarm would wake me every weekday morning. I pause for just a second on the edge of my bed; I wonder what today will be like.

By 8:05 a.m. I am dressed professionally with a clean slate of makeup on and my hair is straightened and just graces the tops of my shoulders. I throw my prepared lunch into my knapsack. Leaning down I tightly lace up my white and blue sneakers, function over fashion my friends (my heels are in the knapsack).

This is the part of the morning that I most look forward to, the walk to work. It's the 45 minutes I have to clear my head and smile at the strangers that might pass my way.

No one walks in this town. I mean they walk to their cars or down the street to the store. But they don’t really walk.

A Ford diesel truck might occasionally toot it's horn at me because I'm making such a spectacle of myself. My arms pump, reminding my every stride to keep moving fast. Some that know me well know that this is the pace my mother always keeps; you know, when your bum wiggles just ever so slightly.

In all honesty this is the only fast paced part of my day, despite working in a broadcast newsroom. Everything happens at a different speed here and I like it.

It's a break from the imagined power struggles of our school's newsroom. I know I don't want that anymore. I just want to connect with the people around me. Surrounding myself with the people and things that infuse my life with great contentment is all that I want.