Last Friday evening, my wife of 20 years informed me that she was now keeping a journal.
"A journal?" I asked, "What the heck for?"
Her answer (fortuitously abbreviated here) was, "So I can write down things in my life."
Secretly, I suspect, this is her version of a mid-life crisis. I think she is entitled. Twenty years of marriage to me would give anyone cause to be in the midst of a crisis, middle-aged or not.
But she got me thinking, and this is something I fervently try to avoid, that a life, in the end, is defined by it's story. Essentially we are each writing the book of our life every day, whether we realize it or not.
And so we come to it. The purpose of this blog is to tell my story, interesting or not, to any reader bored enough to wade through it. For those who take up the challenge, I bid you good luck!
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But she got me thinking, and this is something I fervently try to avoid, that a life, in the end, is defined by it's story. Essentially we are each writing the book of our life every day, whether we realize it or not.
And so we come to it. The purpose of this blog is to tell my story, interesting or not, to any reader bored enough to wade through it. For those who take up the challenge, I bid you good luck!
*
