Worthy of a Post-It Note

For the past six years, I’ve kept a large glass mason jar on the top of my dresser. Next to the jar is a stack of hot pink post-it notes and a black Sharpie. Inside are handfuls of the folded over post-it notes, each one scrawled with the date and a memory.

I’ve kept this tradition up, noting fond moments — big and small — throughout the year. I try to keep them personal, not professional unless something really fucking outstanding happens at work (but it truly has to be worthy of a post-it note).

Throughout the year I watch the jar as it goes from one or two pieces of paper barely noticeable at the bottom, to having to physically tuck each piece in and find space for it to join the others.

In the first week of January, after the joy of the holidays and the optimism of the New Year, I sit on my bed with a cup of coffee, dump out the jar and read through each one. Some memories resonate more than others and some I had completely forgotten about in the hub-bub of the year and are gentle reminders of joyful times that were worth noting on a piece of paper and yet somehow escaped from my memory.

At the start of each year, or maybe even while we’re popping champagne on December 31st, we often want to label the year gone by. It was either bad or good, awesome or stressful, the year I got married or the year I got a new job. It’s so easy to gloss over and forget the 365 different sunrises and moments that come together and inform the perspective you’re bringing to the year ahead.

Each year, when I sit on my bed and sift through the love notes, it reminds me to do just that; pause and reflect, remembering everything along the way and just how beautiful life can be, even in and amidst the hurdles.

After I’ve read through the jar, I throw them all in the recycling bin. Yep, I don’t keep a single one. It’s my way of closing out the old to make way for the new. To acknowledge previous joy so I can have room to make note of the abundance in the year ahead.

It’s already January 25, 2021 and I still haven’t sifted through the notes from 2020. I’m not sure why, maybe a part of me isn’t ready to let go with so much still uncertain in the year ahead. It’s been so tempting to say 2020 was a bad year. We all want to forget and move on.

But looking at this jar on my dresser today, I know the story is more textured than that. And I love the reminder to always take a second look. I will when I’m ready.