Reflections

A blank page can provide a ton of possibilities. What do you want to write about today? Do you want to create a story, reflect on the past, make a to-do list for the day? A blank page is a canvas full of potential. I have been journaling since I was about 7 years old. My first dairy was a plastic vinyl covered one with a huge ballet slipper on the front. It had a tiny little padlock and pink pages with lines. I instantly fell in love with it. The surface felt shiny, the lock made me feel safe. I had a place for my deepest secrets, starting with the very first one-how I really felt about my goldfish, Snowflake dying. My handwriting is wobbly my words full of sadness.

I wrote a song commemorating Snowflake and her short but, very meaningful life. I was 7 and the joy of writing has never left me since. I still have that journal, yellowed with age, padlock broken but, everything intact. A small seven year old just starting on the path of life. Last time I was in Minnesota, I opened the big plastic bin containing what is left of my possessions in my childhood home. Beneath the ballet trophies and awards and newspaper clippings were my journals throughout the years.

I had a flight at 6AM but, I spent the next 4 hours reading through the words of my life. From the goldfish dying, came crushes on teachers, sibling rivalry, crushes on boys, rants about parents and dealing with the culture clash of east and west through high school. I read on. I used to save everything. The clipping from a lilac tree tucked securely in a ziploc bag from my first boyfriend. The purple petals now crisp and some reduced to dust. Little notes from friends taped into a scrapbook. A VHS tape of the very first time I anchored a newscast in Duluth, Minnesota. Prom pictures. The color swatch from when we painted my bedroom, poetry I wrote scribbled on scraps of paper, all of it, reflections of who I was and the buds of who I have become.

So many other writings in my journal of love that was unrequited, or love that was too soon, too young...too fast. At 5AM, exhausted, I put it all away. I closed the lid on the box and dragged the bin laden with heavy heady memories into the closet. I replaced the clothing that lay on top of it and went to bed. I will always have those reminders of me tucked away to reflect on because quite honestly you can never really know where you are going, until you know where you have been.