When Miss P was almost two years old, I started to write in a journal for her. I would write a few times a week about all the little and big things she would do. My hope was to write and fill journals up every year and then gift them to her when she was an adult. I did very well with it until I didn’t. I stopped and the journal became a doodle pad for her. It is tucked away.
About a month ago, I purchased three leather journals. One for each of my children. I have started up once again, hoping that since I am living in the present and home now, I can give them this gift. I do not write every day, but enough so that everything is meaningful and special.
My hope and wish is that when they are older, and memories of youth are clouded with pressures and events of the moment, they will open the crisp pages and read about how I saw them through my eyes. They will read about what they liked, loved and didn’t care for. Through my words they will relive memories, laugh and know that every single day they are loved.