Customarily we know them as journals, diaries, or just plain notebooks of stray passing thoughts. It's those jagged glass-like thoughts that we hurriedly jot down as words of therapeutic purging on some unsuspecting piece of paper that just happens to be within our reach at the moment. It does not matter, at the time, if the paper is lined or bound or wrinkled or even torn...it matters only that it is to become home to these words of ours that float about inside of our heads. We want a place to put th0se words down, we want to give them a new home or to return to visit them again with closure or to just let the paper now take the burden of any shredded thoughts that we no longer wish to give free room and board t0. For some those paper words are secured with their own lock and key and some are loosely tucked together in some unused drawer or even folded away neatly in some stack that is merely gathering dust. For some those paper words are regarded highly and pressed firmly onto fresh, crisp pages in some special bonded folder or clipped together at the sharp, unfolded edges and slipped inside some box of "things and stuff." Those paper words...those words we put to paper...those words are fragments and letters that make up the scribbling of shredded thoughts that are part of us. And no matter where they may be tucked, they compile a history of doors we have closed, battles we have fought, losses we have lost, tears we have shed, mountains we have climbed, sacrifices we have made and so many, many other elements that have brought us to where we are as a person today.
But, after all of the reflection has been reflected upon, I hope that your pages will continue to turn, not stopping in mid-sentence, and that the paper words keep flowing and that the thoughts find a way to cease the shredding and that the chapters that follow are written more carefully with poise and grace for they now write a story of future possibilities and dreams within reach. May all of the pages be lined, and may your penmanship be straight and may every stroke of your ink form new paper words that now lead you over the threshold, with mended thoughts, of many new open and welcoming doors.
Pam's late-night thoughts...
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