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Sometimes I wonder what I’ll actually remember from a day. At times I feel my emotions are eclipsed by an inescapable feeling of emptiness; that my actions are grains of sand on a desert planet. But with that I am reminded it only takes one more straw to break a back; it only takes one more drop to overflow the bucket.

Will I remember the routine, or will the routine remember me? When I wake up, go to work, come home, take care of my daughter, sleep, then repeat the whole thing where does that leave me?

I started this diary for two reasons: 1) I read all of James Kochalka’s American Elf autobiographical daily diary comics in a week and was touched by the honesty, but also the realization that I read 14 years of someone’s life in such a short time. And, 2), I have tried to keep a diary before but always got off-track (read: never fully committed).

In the end I believe that the normal—well, my normal—is something I want to remember, explore, and study. I am not an experiment, but perhaps dedicating time & thought to recounting & recollecting is.

Today, Amelia took a 3.5 hour nap. She slept so long I worried she wouldn’t be ready for bed. At one point she was laying on my chest while I watched the sunset from the couch. Alexander laid on my lap. That simplicity, that joining of worlds & realities so small yet meaningful, is why I want to remember these days.

I love my mom, dad, wife, daughter, & sister simply & wholly.



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