Leather Journal

<a href=”https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/literate-today/”>Literate for a Day</a>

Every evening I sit down and write and summary of the day in  journal.  It’s different than the one I keep for my therapist, this one isn’t electronic but rather a leather bound version I picked up some time ago.  I write things to my daughter, stupid observations about the day.  How I was feeling, things I did, maybe if the sunrise was especially beautiful that morning.  It seems odd to do,  but hopefully it will continue to help me cope with life.

I feel silly sometimes talking to a Deity that at times I question his/her motives.  And while the dog still hasn’t figured out that she shouldn’t scratch the screen, Facetime has been interesting for her.  There are plenty of reasons why I don’t talk to many people, some are valid but most are just fear.  Not knowing what to say or how to say it.  So this collection of words to an audience that can’t read is my way of reaching out.

Yesterday when the terror of today’s surgery was starting to take hold, I just sat there on the bed with my hand out to my side.  For a little while, my friend Kathy held it and for a little while her granddaughter held it.  We didn’t talk because there just weren’t any words.  And knowing that it won’t be until this afternoon when they wheel me into an operating room to determine if I get to keep some, most, all of my arm just didn’t seem like something to dwell on.  That was what quiet time for me was about.

My beliefs have been tested and the one that I cling to is that sometime in the future I will see my daughter again.  Goes against all of my previous thoughts regarding religion or really anything.  But for know I right in that journal so she can see inside my head, better than if she truly can watch me from some distance.

For years I thought I had nothing to say.  Being scared to write anything because I just didn’t know how.  It wasn’t fear for a lack of talent, it was that I just thought that if I told people what really was going on they might run away.  In this case I ran towards writing to a specific person because I knew that she would always try to understand.  Abigail is now a captive audience of sorts, but hopefully a willing one?

There will come a point where I might not be able to write in that journal.  I never really know what date my head will start to give out a bit and my body will be forced to follow suit.  Those pages will then be words whispered from my mouth in an attempt to still talk to my friendly ghost.

For now, I must go make today’s entry because later I belief I may still be under the influence of some nice narcotics that a lovely doctor will be pumping into me under some bright lights!

I hope you all find peace today.  The kind that puts a smile not only on your face but in your heart.


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