The other day at work a customer had come up to return an item and walked away giving me a little bit of life advice.
She began with a story about how her Grandmother had written in a journal, every day, for 90 years because she had stumbled on our “one line a day” journals. I had stood there in astonishment as I know that I could not accomplish such a feat. She told me how her Grandmother had left her all the journals she had written and how amazing it was to be able to look back on the day she was born and read what her Grandmother had written. It was something that I had begun to admire because that takes a lot of commitment, no matter how much one likes to write. I had divulged that I own an “one line a day” journal and I was not that great at keeping up with it. Despite the questions that it asks so you have something to write about, I still seem to miss days.. months. She had told me that it is so cool having something to look back on with such dedication and care and persistence. She had suggested that I try to do it because it can also be a form of therapy, even if it was just a line a day. She also suggested that I keep my journal in the bathroom because it’s usually one space that is private and you can spend a couple interrupted minutes in.
It was a pleasant, personal story that kept a smile on my face for a little while in the day.
So the count down begins to Edmonton, guys. I was contemplating writing something every day until the big move but I wasn’t sure when to start. I have a long list to make to make sure everything is, at the very least, not leaving me with my hair all gone before the move. I’m excited. Terrified but really excited. Life is happening guys.
But don’t worry, I can still Ferris Bueller the days.