My Journal, My Confidant

 It’s tough to resign this book of inked confidences to the shelf. More than five years of my most intimate musings are contained within the bindings of this journal. I remember the day I bought it; it was my birthday and I was treating myself to all the things I loved. Naturally, that included a visit to the library and a meandering through the bookstore.

I’d paused at the display of journals. A polished stone or jewel, and fancy tooling, decorated the front of most. They were beautiful. The textured pages, rough to the touch, were laced to the spine. A new journal was the most perfect treat for my birthday. Some might indulge in a piece of jewellery or a spa

package, but nothing pleased me more than purchasing this book.

Over the years, I never left home without packing it in my overnight case, or tucking it inside my tote for a trip to the beach or park. It most definitely accompanied me on all people-watching excursions. It often went untouched, but it was there for me if I felt the urge.

Months might go by without a single note, and then I’d write

page after page of angst or joy or dismay; it’s filled with emotion. Sometimes when it’s within arm’s reach I leaf through it, reading a passage here or there, and reflect on my journey.  

The other day I was almost to the checkout at The Book Keeper when I remembered to look at their selection of journals. It was my intention to buy the same one again but I knew that wasn’t likely. I did find another that I think will be just as loved, and felt most pleased when I added it to my purchases.

Will it take another five years, or will my emotions run rampant and the journal be exhausted in half that time? Will my family find it when they clear my belongings one day? I grin at the thought of writing ‘Burn Upon Discovery’ across its cover.

My fears, hopes, and anxiety-riddled doubts will spew onto its pages, intermixed with bursts of unbridled joys and unbelievable good fortune. I unfasten the cover of my new confidant and run my hands over the blank surface of its pages, curious about what will be revealed.