The rain comes down steadily now. The sky has lost all definition and looks like a light gray sheet draped behind the trees, hiding the buildings beyond. The world seems smaller, feels colder.

I took the train in this morning, riding the rail to avoid the perils of slick highways and crazy commuters. As I stepped from the station and opened my umbrella, a gust of wind came and turned it inside out. I contemplated waiting for the bus, but it was running late due to the weather. I zipped up my jacket, raised my collar and went for a walk in the rain.

I skipped over puddles and kept away from the curb, where passing cars were likely to splash. As I strolled up to the block, I spotted the most inviting cafe and stepped inside. Sitting here, sipping coffee and scribbling away seems like the perfect way to spend the remaining minutes before the workday begins.

Less than two weeks ago, this journal marked its second anniversary. Many months and countless entries later, it still exists. As I sat on the train and wrote the baseball post, I grew nostalgic. It seems odd to say, but many of my early journal entries were born aboard trains or in cafes.

The rain has let up and I will have to walk swiftly if I hope to reach the office on time. Before I go, I wanted to end with a paragraph written a year ago.

"I have come across so many kind and cool people because of this journal. Some I've met in real life and some I've only contacted online, but hope to meet someday. Reading their journals has inspired me and exposed me to so many new and diverse perspectives and interests. I want to thank them for sharing and I want to thank you, dear readers, both known and anonymous, for visiting and skimming these words."

A year later and the sentiment still holds true.