Enough to Miss Christmas

"What about you? Didn't you think it was important?"

"Yes. I did."

We munched our meager lunch on the fly and our only stop was a book store. I picked up some mystery novels for my mother while Karen perused more general titles. She glanced at one offering only to find it contained blank pages.

"That's a fast read," she joked. "They forgot to print it!"

"It's a journal. You become the author." Knowing Karen's penchant for note-taking and lists, I made a suggestion. "Let's buy it. You can start your own journal."

"Like a diary?" I nodded. "Did you keep one?"

"Yup. I started keeping a diary when I was around your age. I kept it up for a number of years. I filled several books like that one." My confirmation was enough to prompt the purchase. We were back on the road when she asked if I still had my journals.

"No," I answered. "They're long gone."

"What did you write in them?"

"A lot of personal stuff I didn't want anyone to see but I needed to say; things I wanted to get off my chest. Silly things, if I were to read them today, but very important to me back then."

"Weren't you afraid someone would read it?"

I thought about my answer. "No. Suzie and I were so close nothing I wrote would surprise her but she wouldn't have read it anyway, unless I let her."

"What kind of personal stuff did you write?"

I laughed at the memory. "There was a boy I liked and I knew he and some pals went skinny dipping; swimming without bathing suits. I fantasied about him asking just me to go, and what it would be like."

"Naked? You wouldn't!"

"No, of course not! But in a diary, it doesn't have to be real. There were words I never would say. I'd write really small, just to see what they looked like. Silly things like that; things I thought of as naughty but wanted to get off my chest without actually doing them."

"Weren't you afraid your mother would read it?"

"No way! We trusted each other. She'd never violate that trust. Neither would my father."

"I won't write that kind of stuff in my journal."

"Why not? I promise you I'll never read it. If you don't believe me, we sell a lock box at the toy store. Besides, you can lock your bedroom as well."

Karen pondered my comments but didn't respond. Instead, she turned away and began writing in her new diary, something I couldn't do in a moving car without losing my lunch on the floorboards.