About two years ago I started keeping a different kind of journal. Now let me state, right off the bat, that I have been keeping a diary, religiously, since I was nine years old. I’ve recorded virtually every major moment of my life and every minuscule detail. (How many times did I really need to tell myself to “be more positive” or “act confident”?) It was almost like I was writing my own personal self-help book in the form of a diary. Then one day I found an old birthday card that a relative had sent me. Not knowing exactly what to do with it, I decided to tape it inside a simple spiral notebook, nothing fancy. Then my niece gave me a cute drawing. It went in the book. An invitation to a wedding. A ticket stub from a funny movie. A receipt from a fun day shopping with my mom. Tiny little pieces of my life, evidence of a life well-lived and brimming with details. Everything important, significant or poignant made its way into this notebook. Now, when I pick up this purple notebook, I can’t stop flipping through it. It IMMEDIATELY brings me back to every single moment. This journal is one of my most favorite possessions, it is the first thing I would grab if there was a fire and it something I am proud to share with people. Yes, I still have the *private* diary where I can record my insecurities and hopes, fears and anger, but this treasure-filled journal is the one I love! It is a guaranteed mood booster and something I will certainly show my future children.
How many people keep diaries or scrapbooks of their lives? (And by scrapbook, I don’t mean the structured, linear, measured out kinds of scrapbooks…I mean the ones that actually hold scraps of a life well-lived.)
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