This morning, I made the last entry into my 2018 (paper) diary that was sent to us when we subscribed to The Economist. I enjoyed writing in it more than I thought I would. In fact, I’m not sure I started writing in it right away since I already keep an electronic journal plus two blogs.
I left it on the kitchen counter thinking it would be part diary and part guest book. It was never intended to be the kind of diary where I recorded my most secret feelings. (That’s in my electronic diary. Even there, I don’t like to disparage anyone, much, lest someone were to actually read it.)
Either we didn’t have people over much in 2018 or when we did no one was nosy enough to crack it open, much less contribute to it without invitation.
There are a couple pages in the back to tide me over into the first week of 2019 but I’m afraid I will miss the practice of writing each yesterday’s events down as I make my morning coffee, a brief but comfortable ritual. A mini-time-out for myself. One last quiet moment before my day begins.
No, I did not expect to like that 2018 diary from The Economist but even one day later, on New Year’s Day, I already miss it. I guess I’ll have to get another diary. (Maybe I should renew my subscription to The Economist while I’m at it.)
2018 is over; that book is closed. It's time to turn the page and to slip into 2019.