I’ve kept a journal of some kind since my preteen years. At the beginning of this year, I decided that I would not only record things of obvious significance when they occurred, but I would write at least a line or two every single day, whether or not anything apparently noteworthy took place. I’m happy to say I’m well on track to finish strong.
Something interesting about this type of journal is that in reviewing the year so far, as I did recently, I am reminded not only of “key” happenings, but I have my memory jogged about “everyday” incidents and moments, which in some cases turned out to be significant.
It’s interesting, too, to see themes. It stands out that many of my moments of note took place outdoors—in a park, on a beach, or walking or jogging around the neighborhood. I’ve even had reflective moments on a bustling and crowded city street. It figures that when I’m outside, moving, and in between the doing of things, it is appropriate “thinking weather.”
Without further ado, here are a few of my journal entries about moments this year—focusing mostly on the everyday type.
I visited one of my childhood haunts—a park where I flew kites as a little girl. I remembered it being so much bigger. But it’s still lovely. And still full of people flying kites.
Enjoyed a gorgeous walk in the park with visiting friends from out of town. It was pouring rain, misty, and foggy, transitioning from dusk to dark, and we were the only people around.
One of the two toilets in the house has been broken for several days, and this evening the plumber finally came by. But he made a mistake reconnecting the pipes, and now my shower doesn’t have hot water! He’s coming back tomorrow to turn it back on. It is annoying, but it also makes me aware of how smoothly my life regularly runs, and I feel grateful for things I usually take for granted—flushing toilets and running hot water.
Good run this afternoon at the track. Nothing for the record books, but best of the year so far. A guy who was running at the same time—obviously an athlete, doing sprints alternating with walking—said “Good run, Miss” when I was leaving. That made me feel great.
My doctor had recommended I have an early mammogram because of (non-painful) cysts. Just to make sure. So I did. I hadn’t expected to be so worried in that in-between time until I got the clean bill of health. I feel like I breathe so much freer now.
Spent the day with a friend from way back whom I hadn’t seen in a couple of years. It’s wonderful how, having been apart so long, we were on the same page again within a few minutes.
Went to a lovely spot in the park that I only discovered a couple of weeks ago—which turned out to be a bird-watching spot. Today I realized how fascinating it is to watch people who are watching birds. They are so passionate about it.
Had a lovely run on the beach. Perfect weather. Time to think, to be grateful, to commune with my own heart and with God. At one point, I was listening to the song “How Great Thou Art” while running right through a flock of seagulls filling the space above and all around me. Literally. Awesome.
Found out that my aunt has colon cancer. She’s a nurse practitioner, a nonsmoker, a vegetarian, and only in her 50s; she knows a lot about the body and biology and health, and she practices a very healthy lifestyle. It really can happen to anyone, anytime. Makes me realize how precious life and family are.
I discovered soupy dumplings. I can hardly believe that with all my travels and adventurous eating, I had missed out on this until now.
I had been planning for a couple of months to go to a particular botanical garden exhibit—about two hours away from home. Headed off that direction on a week day that I happened to have free, only to find out upon finally arriving that it’s the one day they’re closed. I was sure I had checked that on their website. Since I was all the way out there, and there’s a big zoo nearby, I spent the day there instead. It wasn’t what I had planned, but it was a great day.
Life isn't a matter of milestones, but of moments.—Rose Kennedy (1890–1995)