I journaled today for the first time in four years.
I used to journal all the time. Almost every day, but sometimes not quite. And then it started to really dwindle. Until I was only writing every few months. And then just once or twice a year. Apparently, four years ago I stopped altogether. I hadn't even realized it had been that long.
I was hoping it would be like riding a bike -- that knowing what and how to write would all instantly come flooding back. It didn't. A blank page is intimidating and scary. But I filled it.
I'm not totally sure the reason I stopped, or the significance of what it all means (or may not mean). And I don't fully comprehend the significance of starting again. But someday maybe I will.
For now, I'll just try to continue putting pen to paper and see what comes...