(this was an old post I never published back from 2016)
I’m starting to miss the feel of writing in an actual book. Tip-tapping on my phone just isn’t the same and though easy to erase and not susceptible to mold, it doesn’t keep me the same company either.
When I discovered one day how my old journals became mildewed I cried inside; crushed by how irreplacible an investment of time on paper can be.
I knew even before the accident that I wanted to start this blog; I’ve owned the domain for over a decade. My kids laugh now but someday I’ll pass it down to them. And perhaps, just maybe, subconsciously, the mold was a catalyst for me to finally build out the site and give steph and the kids a chance to preserve and contribute their own entries as well.
In the end, I’m not saying I don’t appreciate the phone or enjoy this mode of writing; the screen serves as a comforting white page. It’s just I miss the spills and screw ups that give my old books so much character.