When I woke up yesterday, my savings account balance was $6,070.26.
When I woke up this morning, it was $142.28.
I started actually saving money about four years ago, when I finally started working again. Every Monday, I would put money in my account, and I have faithfully done so pretty much every Monday since then, except the Monday I was in London this year, and a select few other Mondays. When I was on a 20% contract, it might be $10 a week, but every time I hit a new hundreds milestone, I cheered.
Finally, a thousand. Then two thousand...all the way until this year, when I reached over $6,000 in savings (five weeks ago, I took out $1,000 of that for a good faith deposit on the condo, and since then, plugged another grand back in).
I don't have a Starbucks habit. I don't eat out a lot. I take my lunch to school. It helped, too, living with Mom and Dad and not having massive bills to pay every month. Even now, as I face a monthly mortgage payment and the bills I'll need--gas and electricity, water, WiFi, etc. etc.--I plan to tuck money back into my savings account every Monday.
But for now, I feel vulnerable. There was something so invincible about having thousands in my savings account. Even as the checking account dwindled each month, I knew that if I had a flat tire or other emergency, I'd be okay. My throat gulped audibly when I logged into my bank account today--that cushion is gone.
That's not a terrible thing, however. I have a home (almost--just has to be filed with the county!). It will be mine to paint, to have new floors put in, to decorate, and to make into a sanctuary against the world.
And that savings account will grow again.