Diary pages hold secrets and joys, treasures and tears, hopes and fears; our humanness. Life unfolds and time moves on. The diary holds the record; it is a precious thing.
If you kept a diary what would you write about? Secrets. Lies. The details of a kiss, a memorable night. A regrettable encounter. A time when you were terribly flummoxed. Firsts. Lasts. Favorites. Wishes. Disappointments. Life-changing-moments held forever because they are scribbled on the page of a diary.
I am of a vintage age. Born in 1950, I am a “Boomer” who came of age during a time of social unrest and radical change. Racial riots. Martin Luthar King, Jr. Flower children. Free love. Peter, Paul & Mary. The Feminist Movement. Equality. Gloria Steinem. Bra-burning. The Vietnam War. Protests against the war. JFK. The Beatles. Neil Diamond. Leonard Cohen. Herb Alpert & The Tijuana Brass.
I am mother, mother-in-law, and paternal grandmother. Oh yes–as I am still in the workforce, I am an employee. I qualify for other life- and social-role labels, but to include them here would qualify as droning on. B-o-r-i-n-g! (<Didn’t Jo Anne Worley from Laugh-In say that?)
This stuff is private. I wouldn’t let just anyone read this. I think I can trust you with my secrets, right? I hope what you read here will help you in some way.
Let me know, okay?