Move Over Mark Zuckerberg

Am I glad I posted 28 out of 31 days? Yeah, I'm glad.

It's April 1 today, and looking back on the last posts of last month, I feel lucky to have a written record of those days. One thing everyone always remarks about as they get older is "How time flies." and it's true. The days slip through our fingers like gack at a YMCA summer camp with those bright colors and the "wow, that's neat" special texture, but once it drops into the bucket and mom comes to pick you up, that gack is only a vague memory. But this March, my memories are not resting in the bottom of a bucket for camp counselors to clean out at the end of the day. Instead, the moments of my day have been composed two or three paragraph posts. I don't have a closet full of journals to capture this part of my life. Life is moving too fast for that, it seems. So thank goodness I have slices.

I just left Writing Group where we spent the last few hours talking about our experience with the challenge, among other compelling topics, such as pacifism, cupcakes, and the cost of anything you want to buy these days ($100). The four of us sliced all month, and I'm going to miss reading their daily posts most of all. As we discussed tonight, a slice of life is almost a genre of its own, one that invites a reader into your life, providing a personal picture window, bringing spice to plain vanilla. Some posts were better than others, but every day is a journey in writing that I feel fortunate to have taken. Forget tweets and Facebook status updates. The Slice of Life is the new black, and I'm wearing it.