Monday, November 26, 2018


I'm a bit scattered.

Forgive me.

In the last month, we have moved into a new home with arched doorways, remodeling projects, lots of haphazard boxes still waiting for a purpose, and a new office--just for me.

My office is lovely.  The green, high-backed chair is perfect for reading.  My desk stores all my letters and random office supplies.  I have pulled out some old antiques and trinkets, too: my great-uncle's wind-up chime clock, the pottery cat Randy got me, my grandfather's old cigar boxes, my Katherina from Mexico, and some of my old books.

I have a thing about old books.

Nick has gotten me quite a few that I have mentioned on the blog--a grammar book from 1896, Lord Jim from 1931, and several Graham Greene editions, including a 1929 copy of The Man Within, Graham Greene's first but lesser-known novel.

Anyway, with the boxes and books, everything is a bit scattered. 

Amongst my boxes I found some things from my grandmother.  She lives alone in the house she has owned for nearly sixty years, and she sends things to me and my family.  I found this diary from 1943 that my grandmother sent about the time we were moving.

My grandmother would have been in her late teens when she wrote this diary.  I recognize her strong, angled handwriting with its open loops but closed vowels.  

I loved reading this diary about my grandmother and the straightforward actions that she told about simply in her diary.  I wanted more glimpses into her mind and thoughts to understand her better.

I may burn all my journals....

No comments:

Post a Comment