We started a new tradition, Mike and I.
All it involves is a pen, a journal, and a few moments of our time each day.
This is us, by the way, just a few hours before we loaded everything up that was ours in Montrose, Colorado and made the move to Burkburnett, Texas. 800 miles was a long ways that day.
We began this new practice of writing to one another each evening, telling one another whatever it was that was on our minds that day. A week has passed now since we commenced doing it and even if we only had the time to write a few lines, both of us have kept up with it.
A journal of remembrances is what it is, filled with the hand scrawled notes of two people from the "land of long ago and far, far away". Nothing fancy and surely nothing profound, that is unless you are us.
We hope to keep it up for a long time, for whatever days the good Lord has in mind for us to be together. The pages are filled with simple things, stuff that we probably both already knew about one another but never bothered to say. Things like "thank you" for the ordinary.
It's just a journal, purchased for under $10 at Walmart. Yet even in its humbleness, it means so much more to us than that. It is our documentation of life and the many blessings that will be ours to receive.
I told Mike from the "get go" that no matter what we ran into in our new life here on the plains of Texas that as long as we were able to hold hands and stick together that nothing could ever be too bad. It hasn't been easy but we have made it regardless. Life was good in Colorado and without a doubt this much I do know.
Life remains good here as well.
(There's kind of a joke to the making of this picture of our two hands. "Old lefty's" skin was pretty messed up in the bike wreck and unfortunately it sags down quite a bit, making my hand look about 100 years old. Whenever we take this kind of photo, Mike always takes his right hand and pulls the loose skin back out of the way so at least for a moment my left hand appears kinda/sorta normal.)
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