The tradition went something like this.
Each September, I excitedly accompanied my Mom to the bookstore.
I looked through the fresh, shiny journals and picked a brand new one. Carefully examining the covers, I’d find one that represented my life at the moment.
As you can see, cats represented me when I was 10 years old (and also when I was 8, 9, 11…). What can I say, I love cats.
Choosing a set of new pens came next. Gel pens most likely. Preferably the colorful, sparkly, scented ones.
My diary was an important part of my life.
It represented the beginning of a new school year. A new version of me. A new fresh start. A safe place for creativity.
Today, it gives me proof of the thoughts, feelings, and experiences of being a child. Young, carefree, and real. I’m grateful for that. But..most of what you’re going to read is embarrassing and hilarious. When I was 10, I very clearly thought a lot about boys and Shania Twain.
Let’s enjoy this ride down memory lane together, shall we?