Porthole

Journaling

On December 9, 2003 I started to write a letter to a friend, a letter that needed to be written, but one I didn't dare send. It morphed to become a journal.

I wrote every day for years, even when I travelled. At the beginning of this year (March 20th) on page 5174 (book 66) I wrote:

Still love you ____... but that was a decision made long ago. The echo seems weak, but it's the only voice I have & the only words that matter — when you're old looking back.

I only wrote 64 pages in the previous year (177). There had been seasons I wrote more. This year I have a May/June gap and another 8/8 till 12/1. I'm on page 5191.

My blogs do not make up for it. Many entries are my thoughts and opinions; my journal is my heart.

Robert Waltz has blogged every day for two years. My thoughts?

I started my journal, knowing I could stop writing whenever I wanted. But after awhile it was my old-blue-green blankie that I didn't want to give up. It helped me get through Oklahoma, Colorado, Kansas, Costa Rica and Montana and was there for me on all my trips. I had so much built up inside that needed to be put on a blank-page where it couldn't be denied. Still, I held back. I still do. But after all this time there's still much more to share with a friend I talk to but haven't seen in 18 years and 7 months (as of tomorrow).

My advice? You can always walk away. You owe no one anything. But... if it helps you express yourself than you may wish to continue. And if you miss a few days? It won't matter. As you know the 'pen' can always be picked up again.

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