I have passed by the calendar on the fridge countless times — it is difficult not to as the pathway to the living room requires me do so. And each time, I am drawn like a magnet to its clean, white, empty surface.

It’s been there since Jan. 1, secured by two round, fat, powerful magnets, and it remains unblemished, starkly white, a clean new slate.

It is a simple design chosen for its big, easy-to-read grids with extra space for writing. I like this fact; I like this lack of fussiness. The header, a simple monochromatic motif, at once pleasant and centering, heralds the month. The remainder three-quarters of space delineate the weeks and days, with large, roomy grids, just as advertised.

I am seduced by this white starkness, for it draws me in with its blank innocence, beckoning me to utilize its purpose. This means circling-in my schedule so the family knows which days I am home, writing in appointments so I do not forget Women’s Group, dental cleanings and annual physical exams, X-ing out the week I am on vacation.

And yet, the calendar remains blank, because each time I pass it, I am at once compelled and repelled to mark its surface, afraid if I do, I will mar its purity once and for all.

Cidalia Thibault, Skowhegan