Tomorrow I start filling the journal on the right. The green one on the left was started almost three years ago. I went back and forth between writing in it every day and just using it to log notes about our trips. The day before Christmas this year I started writing in it every day again and quickly filled it up. I don’t know what inspired me more; having a place to free-flow my thoughts, or the idea that I would soon be able to start a fresh new journal, and then deciding which journal I’m going to use next. I always have multiple back-up journals, and never pass up the opportunity to browse them at bookstores and catalogs. There’s something about the promise of an unfilled journal, an unfilled day-planner, a blank sheet of paper, that calls to me. I’ve been that way since I can’t remember. When I worked as a paralegal one of my favorite jobs was filling out the tickler cards and the new calendars. I did it for the entire office, that’s how much I loved getting my hands on fresh chances at the new and unknown. Before I start marking up my new journal, I review the one I’ve just filled. In the time I filled out the last one, we visited thirty three cities in five countries, some of them more than once. We lost Phila, gained C.J., lost my foster father, Lou’s mother, and two friends (Cindy and Robin). Lou has undergone two surgeries, I attempted one Ironman and finished another, our eldest daughter got married, and I spent 18 months managing the opening and daily operations of an energy innovation hub. There are a lot of memories contained within that 4″ x 6″ x .5″ book, and looking back at all of them makes me want to continue capturing them in greater detail going forward. I want my kids to have something more of me to hold on to when I’m gone than my social media pages, although looking at my goofy posts over the years should be fun for them, too.