Caroline:Character Creation

I feel as if my forehead is frozen in its permanent state of wrinkled concern. Each day seems to double in length, making each meal feel weeks a part. This morning was the most gruelling few hours that I have experienced throughout this whole ordeal. I lost my last safety net. I lost my home.
I am 34 years old, but the lines that outline each feature of my face contradict my young age. My name is Caroline Wavers, successful businesswoman, wonderful mother of two and happily married. I now laugh at that description of my life, I wonder at how it could have applied to me. I would now say, my name is Caroline Wavers, broke with no home, a mother with two starving children and a husband who is happily with the lord.
As the dust continues to swirl, so do my thoughts. My youngest son was born in 1928 and it pains me to know that the only life that he has ever known in his 6 short years is a life of starvation, dirt and worry. I was married to Jack Wavers in 1923 and Bell was born in 1925 with Johnny following three years later. Those blissful 7 years before this began were filled with such idle worries that I can’t recall a single one.
The wind began to pick up the sand in 1930; this really did not alarm anyone at the time. What was another sand storm? Tomorrow we would have to dig our way out our front door, but then the whole calamity would be over. Every morning we dug our way out expecting that we would be walking calmly out the next morning, no shovel in hand. My husband did get to walk out once, triumphant and glowing with happiness in the belief that it was over, but he never walked back in, he never escaped the storm. That was in July 1932. The remainder of my once gloriously content family walked out of that house this morning never to return, nearly two years later. Like many other families we were evicted from our homes by the bank. The merciless bank.
I sweep the streets with my tired eyes hoping to miraculously find somewhere decent for my children to sleep; the helplessness of my situation sends shivers down my spine. This is what it has come to, the best thing a mother can provide for her children to sleep on is the concrete paving next to the sand covered roads, surrounded by the sand covered lives of the people we used to know. The always-exhausted heads of my two dependent and hopeful children burrow into my warm neck as we all lie, exactly where we were sitting, to sleep.