Somewhere between now and next December, something is going to happen.
A conversation worth remembering. An idea that arrives, uninvited, at 2:47pm. The kind of thing that slips past if you're not paying attention. These things do.
Most years blur. Not for lack of events, but for lack of evidence.
This year, a notebook sits open on your desk. You write things down. Not everything. Just the parts that mattered.
The pages are blank. And they’re all yours to fill.
