Don’t Forget The Moments

This morning I asked my husband, “What was the best thing that happened to you in 2021?” And while he was scanning the past twelve months in his mind, I was doing the same. I scrolled back to January, rethinking how excited I was to have an upcoming birthday in February, and celebrate my boys’ February birthdays. I thought about the birth of my great-nephew, Jack. I thought about my business and how I almost lost it, but rallied in November. I thought about how grateful I was to have another year with my parents. I thought about the night a few months back, when my brother took me to see our favorite comedian. Time for just the two of us, laughing, talking and reminiscing about our childhood. And of course, after losing my Mrs. Beasley doll, 40+ years ago, (a doll that I took with me everywhere since the Christmas I received her in 1971), my husband found an authentic Mrs. Beasley doll and gifted her to me this past Christmas.

So there were plenty of moments that were memorable. But picking one absolutely best thing? I couldn’t really decide. As my husband and I sat together over morning coffee, we chatted about it. And it turned into a conversation about living our best life, being the best we can be, and not having just one best thing, but so many, we lose track.

And he’s right. And that reminded me of something I read, of all places, on Facebook:

“Today you start a new year and a new chapter in your life. As you open your book to 365 blank pages there are no limits to what you can accomplish. Write a good one!” I read that on Facebook, by James P. Norcott. And it stuck with me.

So today I begin my 365 page book.

Day 1. I don’t know what I’ll end up writing every day, and perhaps it will turn out to be a bunch of ramblings, but I’m challenging myself to do it anyway. I want to look back over this year, and remember it all. I want to remember the moments.

And maybe this blog will inspire you to write your moments.

Here’s to a wonderful, and memorable, 2022.

Happy New Year, everyone!

Picture: Christmas 2021, I wrapped a vintage Stretch Armstrong and presented it to my 55 year old brother. Forty-five years ago, his friend stretched it to it’s demise, and pulled out the innards, rendering it un-play-with-able. The look on his face, as he opened this gift, was a moment I will never forget.

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