Back in the early ’80’s, I tried my hand at journaling.  I used a Hilroy scribbler and jotted my thoughts down a few times. Then I forgot about it, hidden under my mattress.

Years later, my mother found it. Read it. Kept it. Told me about it a short time ago.  I’m glad I switched to writing in code after a while.

More recently, my SIL found it, took some photos to send me, then left it.

I just glanced through it.  How embarrassing!  And yet, sad, as the few entries included descriptions of what, in our modern times, would be considered physical abuse.

Oh, how dramatically I wrote. Such angst! Such hyperbole!

That thing is going into the burn barrel right now, as it should have, years ago!

The Re-farmer