Pen to paper

This post brought to you by the letter J.

Growing up I kept a diary.  Well, let me be honest, I kept many diaries.  At times I wrote in it everyday, whether I had something to say or not.  My diary was a secret friend.  A place where I felt free to pour out my heart and put my every feeling on the pages between the locked cover.  I can still remember laying between my covers listening to Pillow Talk on the radio while I layed out my latest crush, squabble, dream or hope in my trusty diary.

I gave up my diary writing as I became an adult.  Somehow it seemed childish to still need to confide in my silent friend.  Until recently.  I began to see that grown women can and do write in diaries, they just call them journals.  I searched high and low for a journal that could welcome me back into the folds of paper, into the quiet of pen scratching paper and didn’t see anything that really worked.  I asked my beautifully sweet, incredibly talented friend Jeanne to make one for me and then waited with baited breath to see what she would come up with.  When I recieved my journal in the mail I could hardly wait to rip it open.  Once I had it in my hands I was speechless.  Not only is my journal absolutely beautiful but it is perfect for me and what I need it for.  It means even more knowing that Jeanne made it for me and chose the words with me in mind.  I have been happily writing in it ever since.  Everyone needs a place to be honest with themselves.  To be brave enough to tell the truths in their lives.  To be open enough to share their dreams.  I really think that getting it out in the open, in words and in writings is so powerful.  A bridge from thought to action.  It was a strange and wonderful feeling to connect with my younger self as I brushed my pencil over the page for the first time.  I hope that one day my great, great grandchildren will cherish my journals/diaries and feel a little closer to me.