Writing It All Down

I spent an afternoon at the park. Without kids. At lunchtime. On a school day.

It was weird.

I watched the moms shepherd their kids from the playground to their unpacked lunches, and I watched the moms pack up the lunches and shepherd their kids to the waiting minivan for naptime.

I sat there with my iPad, notebook, pens, and Taco Bell, pondering on life and wondering where my time to have lunch at the park with preschoolers went. My mind spun along another tangent--the disappearance of my toddlers and faithful camera to document everything "for the blog."

My brain never rests these days.

I revisit the past--allowing equal time to both mistakes and triumphs. I dissect the present--trying to separate reality from invention. I envision the future--best and worse case scenarios tag-teaming across my mind's stage.

Never have I written so many notes to myself. Lists in my day planner. Cross references in my scriptures. Snippets in three other notebooks carefully divided, color coded, and maintained to track specific thoughts, plans of action, and failed attempts.

Why do I do this--write so much down? I don't know some days. I don't think it does any good. It doesn't solve world hunger or conjure miraculous parenting solutions or even help me sleep better. It's some strange compulsion.

And then, days like today remind me why I write it all down. It's not for my kids or for cyberspace or for my posterity. It's for me. For me to remember.

I spent an hour searching old posts for this entry--one of the dark points on my life's personal roller coaster. Rereading about that moment in my life brought perspective to today's low point. It's been over three years since that time in my life, and guess what? Things got better from there. They always do.

And they will again.

So, even though I have nothing profound to say today, even though I haven't discovered some great wrinkle in space, even though I have yet to decide who will receive my vote for president, even though I have no answers to the questions plaguing my days--I still am here at the keyboard, writing it all down--

--hoping that what I write today will help me again in the future. And if it doesn't, then cyberspace will file it away along with other seemingly meaningless bits of information.

I'm ok with that.

I'll know where to find it.