Thoughts, questions, prayers and pleas... rants, raves, epiphanies and ideas... doodles, notes, names and more... Since August last year one book has held all of these things.
My mind, my heart, poured out through a fountain pen into the companion that rarely leaves my side. As I say goodbye to one journal, and add the pens strokes that stain the pages of my new journey mate, I feel simultaneously elated and at a loss. The bulging dog eared pages of retiring book have talked me through much. I don't feel ready to leave it behind.
Yet...
I am always excited about the potential of the blank page. What next?
Have you ever wondered what would happen to your journals after you die? I've gone back and forth on the idea of having them buried/cremated/whatever with me... they're so intimate, my life laid bare... To whose hands would I entrust them other than Steve's?