“Fill your paper with the breathings of your heart.” ~William Wordsworth

I remember when I was 15 and on a Confirmation Retreat (a whole five miles from my house—Guam is small) that there were several LIFE LESSONS I learned.

First, I realized that my teenage drama didn’t compare to other kids’. My dad wasn’t in prison, my mom wasn’t abusive and I wasn’t as economically challenged as others. Yes, I didn’t have a boyfriend and that was huge in my mind then, but I did have budding feminine wiles. “Budding” being the operative word—arrested development really, but I digress, thank goodness I’m married, but I digress yet again. I cried when it was my turn in the sharing circle and upped the dramatics so the cute guy next to me could comfort me with a shoulder to cry on. Silly girl, but I have a nice memory of his muscular arm.

But, the TRUEST TEARS shed that weekend were when we were given letters from our parents. In my dad’s beautiful script were loving words our family didn’t easily throw around. I still have that letter and it is proof that I was loved. It was only when I was married that “I love you’s” flowed freely because of distance and mainly because my husband was not stingy with declaring his love. My parents followed suit. Now that my father is gone, I only have the many greeting cards he picked out for me and the letter from confirmation class. Sure, I have the memories of how we SHOWED our love, but I’m a writing freak…I love words, words on paper.

In my constant quest for order in the house (fancy way to say I’m cleaning), I found the beautiful leather journals I bought for my son and daughter. I finally wrote another entry to each of them after a nine month hiatus. I fill it with my feelings for them, the smart and funny things they do or say and some mundane, but important daily occurrences. I envision it full and gifted to them when they finish college or get married or have their first child. I tell my children that I love them more than once a day and I catch myself watching them with wonder all the time. The perfection of their little faces reminds me that there is a GOD.
Esta later!


  1. Thanks "D"...simple gesture means a lot! Just located your blog and signed up to follow! Happy Writing!


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