In 1954, when I was sixteen years old, I received my first diary. It was a one-year diary and allowed for only several lines of writing each day. I wish now I had written more, but I wrote in that little book the rest of that year. At the end of the year, I purchased a journal that allowed for more writing and was good for five years. That journal took me through my college years. Eventually I found journals that allowed me to write a full page, which I found sometimes to be a challenge but still I persisted, not always writing every day but remaining consistent enough to see a narrative. It is now 2012, and I write every day but not in a book but on my computer. Each morning, I paste the past day’s writing into the journal writing I started over 50 years ago and read through what I did on this day over the years. I read about my education, my children, my hopes and dreams, my fears. I’m so glad that I didn’t give up writing in my journal as now I have the unfolding story of my life.
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