I can't believe I'm doing this. I am much too timid to put my thoughts down and let someone read them. Maybe they won't.
For years I've been saying, I must do something with all of the photos I have boxed and stored in the basement. Last week my daughter, L. was here with a couple of her sons and another grandson. I had the manpower with no excuses, so they brought up all the photos to my playroom. Now I have no room to play. I have to organize, structure, and begin.
I found a diary that my grandmother kept during the year before my grandfather died. I got engrossed in that and spent two afternoons with her. There is more; I only touched the surface. I remember the time. I will write about that later.
Rose spent some time that weekend scanning photos of her family and her father that I had in my cache. She doesn't know all the stories yet. I must tell them.
I'm pretty sure this journey will last the rest of my life.