Recently my family had a tragedy. And by family, I mean Kyle and myself. When I came home from Vienna we bought a notebook (um, yes it was a Moleskine, how did you know?) and we each wrote things about life in it. We wrote about wedding planning, and dreaming, and thinking, and the perfectness that is your own wedding day. And as life went on we wrote about playing house (i.e. being married) and teaching Sunbeams and living in different states. We each wrote different things—different details we noticed—different moments we enjoyed. And I loved that notebook. Every time I wrote something new, I would scan all the pages before it. Always mentioning to Kyle, “I’m so glad we have this.”
And then we moved to Texas.
And somewhere in that transition, I've lost the notebook.
And Kyle does not know this, but it has made me cry so many, many times.
Because the truth is I don’t really blog about the day-to-day, I scribble it on butter yellow pages with Signo .28 pens.
And losing those scribbles make my chest ache and eyes burn.
But I am picking myself up, dusting myself off, and writing some more. I have other notebooks. And I have a blog. And I have a life.