Oh, my. I can't believe . . .

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.