I have kept a journal most of my life and when I have finished writing have simply tossed the notebooks into a bin ... except for those that I wrote in 1976 which were so filled with self pity I burned them.
At this stage there are several Rubbermaid bins filled with these scraps of life.
I began to mine the journals for scraps of poetic lines that might inspire some writing ... for tea cozy poems and images ... don't ask.
Then yesterday I received a message from My Dear, a friend on the cusp of her 41st birthday who asked me for three stories of when I was her age. I dove back into the boxes and found A DOZEN, yes, a dozen journals from that year. I honestly wonder how I had the energy to be that prolific, hold down a teaching job, be a mother and be a spouse. Maybe I will discover the secret as I look for those three stories.
I hope the excursion into the past will be revelatory and inspiring ... or at least fun. I will let you know.