Once upon a time, I wrote a blog called Marshallogue. I wrote every day. I wrote about life experiments and observations.
One day, I missed. I didn’t write. Or, really, I wrote but didn’t publish anything I wrote that day.
No big deal. A milestone, yes, but I’ll continue tomorrow, I thought. Not only continue, I’ll make up for the missed day.
So I did. I wrote a post and even published it to cover that day I missed. Then I continued my writing.
Days passed, months without missing. Then I missed again. And recovered. Missed yet again and recovered.
Then I missed a day and didn’t recover. This was back in 2011, the year I was in Korea. The day I missed was Christmas Day (and a few others around then). What’s weird is, I knew what I wanted to write for that day. I just didn’t write it.
I meant to return and make up for that day, the way I had for all the others, but I didn’t.
Now I miss all the time. I haven’t published anything here in months.
And I don’t miss it each day.
I mean, it used to be that when I’d miss a day, it would nag at me. Hey, Marshall, get back in there and publish something.
Now I don’t notice when I miss individual days of publishing.
But I miss it. I miss it in general. I miss the outcome. I miss looking back at what I’ve written over the months. I miss not having published anything to commemorate the most important moments of my life.