We've been asking my son what he wants for his twentieth birthday, Dec. 2. Yesterday, as we sat in the den during a break from his guitar playing, he told me: He would like a new video game set. And his diaries.
"Your diaries?"
"My diaries. Is that okay?"
"Ummmmm. . . . " I answered, and sat there stunned. My husband had stepped out of the room prior to this and all I could do was stare at him in disbelief.
"Your diaries?"
"Yeah."
"Wow. I don't know. . . . I . . . let me think about it, okay? I mean, probably, sure, but let me think about it?"
"Okay."
I always assumed I'd know when it was time to turn over the diaries. I assumed it would be my decision, and one day, I'd just know in my gut it was time, and I'd say, "Son, here are your diaries," and maybe he'd want them, maybe he couldn't care less.
I never imagined that he would ask me. I never imagined an answer. And why am I hesitating? Why don't I just say yes? Why did the question feel like a punch in the gut? Will I say yes? It's Nov. 26. I have less than a week to recover from the question. . . and decide.
Kelly
Don't you sort of owe it to him? I mean, sure he could lose them - every parent worries about that kind of thing with sentimental relics.
My aunt recently produced a handmade book of her mother's collected poems. She professionally laid out the works and then bound several copies for her mother as well as immediate family members. Maybe you could do something like this so as to preserve the originals. I realize it's late to start a project of that magnitude, but perhaps a promise to do so would suffice.
Hoping to help,
KHT
Posted by: Artiface | November 27, 2007 at 11:10 AM
Kimberly, I love your "Sweet Nothings" photo the most! It's breathtaking! Thanks for writing! Kelly
Posted by: Kelly DuMar | November 29, 2007 at 02:56 AM