Dear Diary,

Do you keep a diary?

I do. I don't call it a diary anymore. It's a journal. That sounds more grown up, but essentially they're the same thing.

When I was a little girl. I kept a diary that was a chronicle of events and worries. Now that I'm all grown up, I keep a journal that's mostly a chronicle of events and worries.

The words that go into a journal aren't any more grown up than the words that go into a diary. Sure, some of them are longer. Journal words are typically spelled correctly with higher frequency. But, my journal handwriting is almost exactly the same as the handwriting in my diary from when I was 10.

I write about the same kinds of things in my big grown up journal that I used to write about in my little girl's diary. Things that I love. Things that make me smile or cry or laugh or just want to write. I write about people and places I love, the air I breathe, and the way sand feels between my toes.

For me, writing in a journal is like taking a nap under a tree on a brilliant summer day. Not too long ago, I had the great good fortune to actually write in my journal, under a tree, next to a big river, directly after taking a nap under a tree. It was quite possibly the best hour of my summer. (Except for the hours that I've spent with you...obviously.)