For years, I maintained a journal of sorts. It was large and thick with a black cover and it contained oodles of blank pages just waiting to be filled. I did not write in it daily, but over the years I filled it with my favorite quotations, doodles, notes on gratitude, and memorable moments. That journal saw me through college, graduate school, and the first year of our marriage.
Then I had three kids in quick succession and I tucked it away in my attic for safe-keeping. I’m not sure I’ve thought about it since, to be honest. That is, until last night when T did something that made me utter one of my all-time favorite quotes -one that I had saved in that journal- aloud:
The best portion of a good man’s life:
his little nameless unremembered acts of kindness and love.
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