CoffeeTable Diary

When I was younger, say, late teens, early twenties, I had a diary.
One of those small ones, with the lock on it and the little key that always gets lost.

I would jot things down in it.
Mostly, trials and tribulations in the dating arena.

Teenaged angst.

Then, in the fall of 2001, my singles pastor gave me a diary to keep to help me process my emotions and life as my mother was dying.

Almost exactly half way through the book, she died.

Before and after, during the crisis.

I haven't opened it since.
Bought a new one, but didn't keep up with it.

This is my new diary, this blog.

Only this one is left out on the coffee table for anyone to peruse.
I just don't see who picks it up to read it.

Most look at it and put it back down.
While a few jot down notes in the margins to say they were here.

It is not as private as those little books I have on my shelf at home.
But it seems to do the trick.