Each day you wake up to possibilities. A fresh new day means it's already a perfect day. You look to what needs to be done and what you can look forward to. As you brush your teeth and look in the mirror, you tell yourself it will be a great day.

Over the day, little things pop up. Hiccups, let us call them. They chip away a tiny bit at your enjoyment of the day. You look at the clock and see in the scope of things those little hiccups are just a small part of a day filled with happy things.

Friends reach out and ask how you are. Conversations are had with a lot of laughs thrown in. The hiccups are forgotten as you realize how lucky you are to have people that care enough about you. The day goes on.

Hiccups start to become molehills. The web of tunnels runs deep under those hills. You shovel as much dirt into the holes to the best of your abilities. Notes are made. Answers on how to eradicate the moles will be researched another day. Right now, the plugs you made covering the holes will have to do. It is getting near the end of your day.

You let your guard down. You start to relax. You feel good about what you accomplished in your day. You bask in the quiet before the storm that will soon smack you in the face.

The same plot, different day, a category five sweeps through laying waste.

You are left numb in the aftermath. Your body goes into shutdown as the red warning signs beep. You missed the sirens and now find yourself buried deep. You wait it out in the shelter of your mind. Knowing the storm needs to run its course. Once over, you are exhausted.

You pick your way through the debris on the way to bed. The need to close your eyes and breathe deeply is a must. Oblivion comes in the form of a nap. You wake up knowing it is time to start rebuilding.

You do the best you can righting the mess. Music becomes your solace.

You search through the archives of your mind for just the right tone of the music to make everything right. You want something that touches your dead soul.

Memories come folding back of days when life was simpler. You become renewed as the story in the songs plays out. You smile thinking of the days when album sides told a tale from the first song to the end.

Vinyl wasn't made to pick and choose which track you wanted to play. The test of a great album was if you could lay down the needle, sit back with your headphones on, and not have to get up until the side was done.

In a better mood after the journey to your past, you carry on until morning. Your last thoughts echo before going to sleep for the day.