Some of my
old journals have come back into my hands recently. My parents cleaned out
their basement a couple of months ago and dumped a box of my old things at my
place. All of it still smells like my old home (musty basement smell, but so
sweet for all the memories it brings up).
I used to
keep journals/diaries sporadically, not ever really writing on a daily basis. Surprisingly,
I remembered the combinations to open the locks on them, though I had to cut
the oldest one open because it was locked with a key lock which I lost the key
for. It was quite something, to step back in time, as much as 20 years in one! I’ve
realized after reading through them that I have changed, but I’ve also, in many
ways, stayed much the same (more on this in later posts).
In the
oldest one I found, my mother wrote the first entries for me. Here’s an excerpt
from the first entry on January 8, 1993 (don’t worry, nothing too personal!):
At school I worked and played outside. In the class I played with Barbie dolls and blocks. I shared my cookies with James. My mom bought this diary for me tonight.
Funny
enough, I sort of remember dictating this to my mom. It’s interesting to see
how I thought as a six year old. And I still keep in touch with James!
The first
entry I wrote on my own, in sprawling, crooked block letters (how cute!) was on November
16, 1993 (I’m leaving in the spelling errors I made):
I love Jacob and Randy. My friend is Aubrey every day I paly with My friend Audrey and sometimes I paly with Ashley [last name withheld].
And how
awesome, my dad wrote for me on the next page! That was the time my mom was
away to get an operation. I remember my dad cooking us eggs for dinner, but I
didn’t remember that he helped me write in my diary. I recognize his tiny handwriting.
And then right at the end, I write: Mind
Cat Bad
The entry my dad wrote for me. |
The cat I
am talking about can only be Rambo, the warrior cat of my youth. He was orange
and white and all muscle. He had so many scars and his ears were halfway gone
from all the fights he got in. But I never once saw another male cat in our
yard when I was younger. How could I tell the ones I did see weren’t male? I
don’t know and don’t ask!
I will have
to show this to my parents.
To be
continued…