"Just write it down" her Mom would say, "Some day you will agree with me!"
"Sure," she muttered, "Writing it down won't make it better," she added with an attitude reflecting her 13 wise years.
"Some day you will know I am right, her mom added assuredly. Those early teen years were difficult ones for them all as they adapted to a new family and living situation amidst all the strife and angst of the early teen years.
It was during the great purge of dried up apple cores and stained tee-shirts that her mom found them nested in the bottom drawer of her dresser and in a box in the back of the closet. She stopped to finger through the first one - remembering the little girl's handwriting - not sure if she should read the words. She decided to read just one, and then another, and then another.....until hours later, she sat alone on the floor of that daughter's room remembering the other side of the those events. There were a few that made her cry like, "If only he could see me for more than my body." There were many that made her smile, "I'm so glad she said no, because I couldn't have." Each one reflected a small piece of her daughter's transition from youth to adolescence. At the end, she knew that they were treasures and packed them all into the tote box of baby dolls and yearbooks, treasures that her daughter might want some day.
It was many years later, when she returned home to help clean out the house and prepare her mom for her own transition. She found herself doing what she always did to get through complex emotions - she wrote. It was near the end of the cleaning and sorting that she opened that tote box in the attic and started reading.
"I guess Mom was right," began the entry that night.
"Sure," she muttered, "Writing it down won't make it better," she added with an attitude reflecting her 13 wise years.
"Some day you will know I am right, her mom added assuredly. Those early teen years were difficult ones for them all as they adapted to a new family and living situation amidst all the strife and angst of the early teen years.
It was during the great purge of dried up apple cores and stained tee-shirts that her mom found them nested in the bottom drawer of her dresser and in a box in the back of the closet. She stopped to finger through the first one - remembering the little girl's handwriting - not sure if she should read the words. She decided to read just one, and then another, and then another.....until hours later, she sat alone on the floor of that daughter's room remembering the other side of the those events. There were a few that made her cry like, "If only he could see me for more than my body." There were many that made her smile, "I'm so glad she said no, because I couldn't have." Each one reflected a small piece of her daughter's transition from youth to adolescence. At the end, she knew that they were treasures and packed them all into the tote box of baby dolls and yearbooks, treasures that her daughter might want some day.
It was many years later, when she returned home to help clean out the house and prepare her mom for her own transition. She found herself doing what she always did to get through complex emotions - she wrote. It was near the end of the cleaning and sorting that she opened that tote box in the attic and started reading.
"I guess Mom was right," began the entry that night.
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