Fun fact: I have a chalkboard wall in my kitchen. Each day in November of last year my family and I listed things we were thankful for on the wall every evening. (You can check out those posts here, here, and here.)
Over the course of the month it evolved:
By the time Thanksgiving Day rolled around we had quite the list going. It was a good visual reminder that we have a lot to be grateful for, something that’s especially important to bear in mind while staring down the barrel of black Friday and ZOMG SANTA I WANT ALL THE THINGS!!!1!!
This year, while not entirely blank, the wall isn’t being filled with all the things we are thankful for. I’m not quite sure why not. I mean, we’re busy, nights are hectic, visitors think we’re odd – but there are always ample excuses not to do something, you know?
I can’t help but think, as I write this in the midst of NaBloPoMo, that there’s a lesson I should be learning from the fact that we *intended* to do this writing project and yet we didn’t because REASONS. What lurks in that crucial space between the intention to write and actually writing?
But starting today – as much as I don’t want to lose that crucial note that Nicholas Sparks should *totally* call his next book “White People Almost Kissing” – I’ll start the wall. Whatever “well, I meant to but I didn’t” consists of, forgiving yourself and pulling the trigger has to be a part of crawling out from under it, right?