At the beginning of the year, I arrived home from work one day to a big ol' brown box on my desk. Turns out, it had arrived all the way from Redding, California, and was packed full of goodies from one of my favourite humans. A belated Christmas gift in the the form of miniature corn hole (I know), gold paperclips, a millennial pink sweater, to name a few, as well as the marble diary in the picture above.
Knowing my track record with paper diaries in the past, I decided I would not relegate this gift to the pile of beautiful-but-unused items that I have amassed over the years. Instead, inspired by a fashion-forward teen on Instagram, I made a decision to start a new habit - the plan was to take a minute at the end of every evening, to write down some of the good things that had happened that day.
Why, you ask? (Or maybe you didn't ask. Well, I'm tell you anyway). More than just a sweet idea, it was a conscious part of my working to care for my heart in this season. It was needed more than anything. I needed to redirect my gaze each day to the highlights of the day just lived, even if they were seemingly inconsequential, so that I could not believe myself if the words, "Everything sucks right now - every single dang thing," ever haphazardly left my mouth, as it had before. And so it began.
21 January: New bed day! Finally back to a queen bed. Lisa helped me rearrange my entire room and it's so cozy.
22 January: Got to FaceTime the whole fam during Lorelai's birthday party. Heart exploded.
23 January: Spontaneous Sylvia Park trip - new denim shorts!
8 February: Told Melody I'm in to go watch Adele with her! So excited!
22 February: Went for a walk around the neighbourhood by myself this evening. Was so refreshed.
It was all going well for a couple of months and then I went silent in that diary. It's five months on and I honestly can't pin the reason why I stopped the ritual. But I did. And this afternoon, on this sunny crispy (read: very cold) winter day, following my first visit to the library in about seven years, pile of memoirs in hand, Skating Through Central Park playing through my headphones, I suddenly recalled the little marble diary and decided it was time to bring it back to the top of the pile of books on my bedside. Today it reads -
30 July: Played handball with the kids at church. (First time in 15 years). (Note: I never have nor will I ever be known for any level of sporting prowess so the only measure of success I felt this morning was utterly and totally related to the fact that I was playing against nine year olds, and I am okay with that). Went for a walk through the neighbourhood, made it to library, borrowed memoirs, including Grace Coddington's.
I am smack in the middle of days and nights that have left my heart feeling tired and tender. And so the plan is to do little somethings that will lift my gaze. This is one of them. Round two. No shame. Back in the saddle again. Let's see how it unfolds.