The box in the barn had a few mouse nibbles in the corners, but the contents were surprisingly intact. While sorting through our 25-year pile of stored and forgotten items, I found that most of the things should have been thrown out long ago. But this disintegrating container held a treasure trove. It was a box of my old journals: spirals of scrawled notes and calorie counts and angst from days gone by.
For the rest of this post, head on over to Writer, Interrupted today.
