I turned 10 the year my sister gave me a five-year diary for Christmas.
I used it to record my hopes:
January 1, 1971: “I resolve I will try to exercise every day!” That lasted three days because, as i wrote on January 3: “exercise makes me tired”.
My achievements:
March 5, 1975: “I MADE IT” – in all caps – after the phone call from our high school cheerleading coach telling me, and my two sisters, we all made the cheer squad.
And thoughts about boys: April 5, 1972: “I am a failure at everything. I can’t even write good notes to keep a boy interested. He’s slowly beginning to hate me. I am always doing stupid things. No wonder no boys like me. Today was mom’s birthday. She is 50”. Hopefully my mood didn’t put a damper on my mother’s birthday!
Much more than just my boy crazed entries, my diary documents school days, birthdays, family trips, and days spent doing nothing with friends. I wrote annually about our Fourth of July family reunions at the lake house of relatives, and remember so clearly the foods, swimming, and cousins I would see once a year.
Haircuts, clothes shopping, McDonalds, Friendly’s and pizza. Page after page, a catalog of ordinary days.
As I read it now, I’m reminded of the carefree times of my childhood and the freedom my sisters and I were given to roam as long as we were home by 5 pm.
My five-year diary is a time capsule I didn’t know I was building.
**This was the story I wrote for my last Writers Guild class at my public library. We’re done for now and will reconvene at the end of September.
Thoughts From The Passenger Seat 