At the end of each year, I revisit the first few pages of my journal. That's where, 363 days before, I wrote a list of my goals and intentions for the year ahead. After reviewing my list, I write my last journal entry of the year. It's a reflection of how my year was based on those goals and intentions.
Did I succeed? Did I accomplish what I wanted or intended? If so, how? If not, why? What obstacles did I face? What did I learn? What adjustments can I make for the upcoming year?
On January 1, I open a brand new journal. On the first couple of blank pages, I write a list of new goals and intentions.
One of my favorite late-December activities is shopping for a new journal. I head out into the crowds of discount holiday-clearance shoppers and wander from store to store, sifting through the journal displays. It usually takes me a while to find one I like. My new journal has to feel, look, and sound (when I flip the pages) just right. It has to be big enough, but not too big. Its look and style need to fit the current iteration of my personality. It has to have enough pages for a year's worth of personal reflections.
This year, I found two prospective journals. Hubby found the first one within minutes of us entering the bookstore. It had pictures of mushrooms on the cover and various mushrooms throughout the journal—all in color and labeled. I gave it some serious thought.
It was smaller than my other journals. But I love wild mushrooms. But the pages were a combination of graphed, lined, and blank. But last year I got my first blank page journal and I did fine with it.
We decided to walk around and visit another store. The second store did not have many journals. None stood out as something I'd want to pick up and write in day after day.
I decided I would get the smallish mushroom journal. We walked back to the first store. When we arrived, we nearly tripped over a clearance display filled with journals. My eyes immediately zeroed in on a fairy journal. The fairy on the cover was purple—my Zahra of the Uwharries series signature color. It was marked 50 percent off its original price.
I didn't want to want it—it had a spiral spine. I don't like spiral spines. But it was chock full of fairies. But it was divided into five sections—weird for a journal. But it was filled with lined sheets. And fairies.
I picked up the fairy journal. I walked over to the mushroom display and picked up the mushroom journal. I flipped its pages. It felt good. I had to decide. Or did I?
The price of the journals combined was much less than what I paid for one leather journal last year. But I only needed one journal. But I could always use one for notes and one as a journal. But I could really save money if I only bought one. But I'd never find anything like either one again, and I liked them both.
I bought both journals.
Now, I have to decide which will serve as my 2025 journal.
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