My first diary was a gift for eighth grade graduation. Through high school and university I faithfully filled its pages and started another. Like my grandpa, who kept diaries a century before (see previous post), my entries focused on people and events rather than reflections.
Recently I found my diaries buried in a picnic basket of memorabilia. After a glance at a few entries I upgraded their position to the top of the collection and shut the lid. For another day.