So maybe I haven’t.
Anyway, he gave me a five-year memory book at the beginning of the year. It has 366 dated and lined pages, with five spots per page to fill in the year. My mission is to return it when it’s full of memories.
Obviously, I’m nearly a third of the way through for the first time. This year it’s a journey of optimism; of looking forward to the future and wondering what I will write on this day in the four years to come.
Of reading the things I have written, five years from now, and remembering them for the first time in a week or a month or five years.
I imagine it will feel like reading the post from my five-year blogoversary earlier this evening, when I searched my archives for journal and five year while trying to find out if I’ve told you about this book. Two years of posting every day is coming up, and then there’s another four years of sporadic posting before that, so why would I remember my 1,063rd post? I wouldn’t; I didn’t.
But it was nice to re-read and reminisce.
And it was nice to think about how far along I’ve come–have I passed a million words yet? In my life, certainly. Since I’ve been writing here? I don’t know. That’s 457 a day. But minus the 200k+ from four NaNoWriMos, it’s only 365 a day.
I don’t know. But it’s interesting to break it down this way.
I’m pretty sure this week, the week of our anniversary, will be the most fun to re-read. We have big plans for future vacations. But it will all be cool, even the days I stayed in my pajamas playing Breath of the Wild and we did rock-paper-scissors to see who was going to get out of the house to gather Pokéstops to keep our streaks going.
Btdubs, I highly recommend Breath of the Wild. It’s in the memory book quite a bit since it came out.
Would you like a greeting card?
Because I would like to make and send you one.
I mean, unless this gets way out of control.
You can email me at firstname.lastname@example.org with your mailing address.
But please keep in mind this may take a while. I’ll email you once I’ve sent your card off.
The other is this bag I saw at the store:
When is the last time you saw a pay phone? All I see anymore are the empty places where they used to be. It’s sad.
Today is Thanksgiving here in the US, and I am thankful for all of you.
I truly am.
Thank you for reading.
Have you ever bought a lovely handmade spearmint bar of soap only to be driven to tears by the strength of the odor when you get it in your shower stall?
Have you ever juiced a carrot?
Have you ever wondered what happened to the giant tiles in office buildings when you see one is cracked?
Have you ever spent an hour trying to train your muscles to move your toes individually?
Have you ever jumped into a public fountain?
The confetti pattern on her skirt matches the heart design on her shirt. Her four miniature ponytails bounce with the rhythm of her backside hitting the glass as she dances to the music blasting overhead. She hasn’t a care in the world.
His jorts have nothing on Kevin Smith’s, but still, they’re rather large. He slaps his right palm against his left first as he walks alone. Who is he thinking of: someone he loves, someone he hates, or no one at all?
He trails behind his mother and his two older sisters, twisting the small GameStop bag around his wrist as he walks. Twisting and twisting, round and around. At least you got to go to GameStop, little boy.
She has a massive overbite, a cool-toned floral top, and a huge diamond on a delicate silver chain around her neck. The rock nestles itself into the hollow at the base of her throat, sparkling its not-so-little heart out.
She cuts her eyes away from the boy walking the opposite way. Because he’s cute or because he’s not? Only her own eyes can make that personal decision. He may simply be too young: dismissed for his age without a chance to redeem himself.