By Amy Krouse Rosenthal
Not exactly a memoir, told in the form of a textbook. A cute gimmick. But it works. Really, really works.
We get patches, glimpses where we nod our head in recognition, then slowly, think: I could be writing about that except—
I never once—and here it is strange because all I do at this blog is tell people to record the ordinary—except I didn’t think it was important. The very meaning of ordinary. We don’t recognize it until it is gone.
Just like, you always thought there would be, would never go away, could never imagine the world without, until a sighting becomes a cause for celebration. Things that used to be always:
Worms on the sidewalk after a rain
So next time you get that niggling thought—jot it down. You might not end up with a New York bestselling Textbook, but you will have a record of having lived a life.