You might have noticed that September came and went without a peep from me and my #oneword journey. I tested positive for COVID at the end of August and much of September passed in a haze of fatigue, fogginess and headaches. I had no desire to get out of bed, let alone choose a word to guide the days ahead.  

But I do now. And I have COVID to thank for it. 

My doctor was very thorough, telling me how to take care of myself at home, but also telling me the sneaky signs to look for that COVID was taking an unexpected turn for the worse. One night, when I was feeling particularly awful and obsessively checking for those tell-tale signs, I asked that horrible question: What if I’m not okay? It was one of those classic ‘What have I done with my life and what will I leave behind?’ moments of clarity. 

There are the intangible things we leave behind, like love, understanding and connection. But there are tangible things we leave behind too, like photographs, journals, books and objects that represent who we are. 

And I realized something. 

The most obvious tangible objects I’ll leave behind (beyond those items with personal sentimental value) are my shelves of books and stacks of notebooks. They represent who I am and how I live my life. After all, I believe a life well read is a life well lived. My children would have hundreds of books to remind them of their childhood reading and perhaps, read some of my adult books later on and enjoy them, too. 

But then I thought about my notebooks. I have MANY notebooks in all sorts of shapes and sizes and for all sorts of purposes. But if my children were to find those notebooks, stack them up and sift through them one by one, they’d quickly come to a startling, and likely depressing, fact: Most of my writing is professional writing. I have notebook upon notebook of professional notes, ideas and documentation, rather than personal candor. And while I do have personal notebooks, I often turn to them when I need to work through something, rather than celebrate it. This means they are filled with frustration, anxiety and even depression as I work through the challenges of life on the page, rather than the happy memories and milestones.

And it hit me hard as I lay in bed, tired and weepy. Is that how I want to be remembered? As the mom who fills her notebook with ideas and to-do lists for work, but not for her family? As the mom who documents her frustration, but not her happiness? 

Because here’s the thing: If how we fill the page is how we fill our lives, then I have work to do. A lot of work. 

Which brings me to my October word of the month: Write. 

I want to write for myself. I want to write for my family. I want to write to document my life (not just my work) and celebrate all the little things that mean so much, but I’ll likely forget. I want to write about who I am and what I stand for and what matters, so that when my notebooks are found later on, they’ll represent me, not just my to-do lists and personal challenges. 

So, in October, I’m cultivating a daily writing habit, just for me. Some days, I’ll simply write whatever comes to mind. Other days, I’ll write to document the small moments of my day and on other days, I’ll write from a set of prompts to get the creative juices flowing (like these from Writing Down the Bones author Natalie Goldberg). 

And I have good timing, too, because the National Day of Writing is on October 20th, which means that others are celebrating October by writing, too. 

Will you join me so we can leave notebooks full of our legacy behind? Let me know what your one word for October is in the comments!