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When I turned 9, my par­ents bought me the coolest diary…with a lock! I felt so grown up. But as much as I loved it, I didn’t even write in it until almost a year later.

After the ini­tial entry, it wasn’t used again until we moved to India a year or so later. It quickly became my dear­est friend.  I shared my secrets with Ms. Diary. I poured out my feel­ings of fear for being in a new coun­try, ner­vous­ness of what might hap­pen if my brother becomes deathly ill again, and of course my frus­tra­tions of the lack of boys around me.   I actu­ally grew to love India, but still thought the sun and moon hung only in the United States.

When Old­man was 9, I showed him this diary. He was so enthralled to read sto­ries from his mom as a child. It was such a odd idea to think of mom as an 11 year old lit­tle girl!. After show­ing it to him I put it away for safe keep­ings. Recently, while clean­ing up, I pulled it out again and lo and behold…look what I found as the last entry:

I love that lit­tle creep.