It’s a good thing I backed off from my nearly impetuous move last June to simply burn the spiralbound notebooks unread in the face of so much dross. Instead, I plodded onward, surprised by a few gems as well as how little I had gleaned from these pages in drafting my poetry and, especially, fiction. Perhaps I had much more than I thought in my long-vanished correspondence.
Do we ever, truly, escape our past?
~*~
One thing I’m noticing is how often my journals review corrects timelines from the way I’ve constructed them in memory.
As do the facts I recorded versus details as I’ve recalled them.
It’s like seeing a photo in full color rather than out-of-focus black-and-white.
Or, as I find, God exists in the details. As does the devil. Knowing the difference can be crucial.
~*~
One thing I’ve learned in the years since is the importance of composting as a gardener.
Combine that with the joy of tasting fresh food – say, strawberries – when the season rolls around again.
The past can enrich the present.
Maybe even turn grief into gratitude.
Jnana's Red Barn 