Light turquoise wraps around the binding, holding together the whole of what’s inside. The cover says, “Love, Aspire, Grow,” while the face of several different breeds of flowers play behind them. Triangles as bright as the lemons on my kitchen table are lined in rows near one side as foreign designs splash across the bottom.

I guess it’s modern Bohemian. That’s what the back of the book states.

When I open to the first page I see more piercing yellow and exotic art among the quote: “Logic will get you from A to B. Imagination will take you everywhere. -Albert Einstein.”

May I introduce, my new journal. Did I mention it’s new? That means the pages are crisp and perfect. The pinch in the center where the last piece of paper meets the next piece of paper smells woodsy and dusty and fresh. The jacket design I picked from a dozen others on Target’s inviting shelves. I even grabbed this one, held the weight of it in my hands, spread it open to get the feel of what it would be like to write in it and then put it back. But in the end it drew me again. The inspiring blurbs around the outside fit just right in the margins, and the colors? Well, I love them.

Although, that’s not the best part. It is between all of this that gets my pulse going. The not knowing how I’ll fill in the empty spaces, but simply knowing I will fill them. With whatever I want. As often as I want. In as many ways as I want.

I always wish the first entry to be flawless. I start out with a vow that my writing will be long and lean, even on all sides and ultimately poetic.  That lasts about one paragraph. Because that isn’t me unless I’m trying really hard; and then I’m just missing the point.

Likely there will be prayers, angry demands and whining, and gratitude. In some spots there will be creativity that’s good, and others that should never be seen. I’ll tell secrets that won’t be whispered anywhere else, and stories that will never be read. I will ultimately “Love, Aspire, Grow.”

The middle is mine. And it’s my favorite part.