Last weekend got me in a reflective mood. Valentine's Day was Saturday and then Sunday (February 15th) marked 6 years since the first time my husband held my hand. For some reason that day has always felt more significant of the two to me. Maybe it is because it was the first outward expression of the love that was growing between us and because I remember those butterflies so vividly. I pulled out one of my old journals from my senior year in high school and started thumbing through it to see what I had recorded about that day. Sure enough, there was a detailed account (4 pages) complete with the whole play-by-play of the night. I even had taped in the note that J handed me that night. I sort of cringed while reading it because it is painfully cheesy and full of the embarrassing phrasing of a 17 year old girl oozing over a boy. I decided to scan in the pages from that entry and post them for your entertainment, but please, if you choose to read them you do so at your own risk. They really are rather awkward, and the only reason I am not too ashamed to post them is because there is a good chance that some of your journals from high school sound eerily similar and it is kind of fun to laugh at ourselves and be glad we aren't 17 anymore.
Don't worry, I won't be posting any more entries from this journal any time soon. I don't think any of us could handle it.
