Another Journal Behind Me

Yesterday, as I sat in sweltering heat, too hot to do anything but read, write, watch a movie, or take a nap, I filled the last page in another pretty journal. I always feel a sense of accomplishment whenever I cover the last few pages of my journal in my handwritten words and put it away with all my other past journals in a box, safely tucked away. And I feel renewed inspiration and adventure calling me in the virgin pages of another unmarked book. Sometimes I hesitate to mar the untouched cleanliness of a new journal with my hand that will often complain, and whine, and write things I may later be ashamed of. But that is all a part of human life, my human life. And alongside pages filled with anger and sadness are pages filled with beauty and happiness. My journal is my friend who hears me out on all the good and bad things I have swimming around in my head. It is part of my story. And when I open a brand new one I feel like I am opening a new and hopeful chapter in my life.

   "Isn't it nice to think that tomorrow is a new day with no mistakes in it yet?"

--Anne of Green Gables