In my cedar trunk are cherished artifacts from my past: calendars, notebooks, letters, and photographs. I’ve carefully curated them, hoping they’ll be discovered by future adult children, or their children or their children, etc. seeking wisdom, like browsing a website or favorite social media feed. These treasures embody the essence of my life, transcending mere desk-bound tasks.
I write at varying frequencies, driven by the seasons and my preferred platform at the time. I find solace in journaling with a dollar store notebook and a thin-tipped Sharpie, clarifying my thoughts. I sometimes send letters on my Smith-Corona typewriter.
I photograph my children to capture fleeting moments, storing the memories securely in the cloud, and use these pictures as writing prompts.
Ultimately, how I express myself matters little; writing, collecting, or documenting. What’s essential is faithfully recording life’s significant moments. Each entry, like a precious bookmark, holds immeasurable value to me.