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I wish I were…
A diary writer since childhood.
I discovered the joys of writing all the good things that happen to me- both big and small- only in my twenties. It’s amazing how uplifting writing about our small pleasures, tiny feats and good deeds can be. Seriously, try it some time.
Ad of course, nothing like leafing through those memories and smiling foolishly on days when one is feeling blue and glum and lonely.

Unfortunately, I did not start this happy practice till I was grown up and old enough to understand some things about keeping a diary:

    There’s no rule that says I need to chronicle everyday of my life.
    I can choose what to write in my diary.
    Unpleasant events need not find a way into a diary. Though writing the lessons learnt is a good idea.
    Diaries aren’t boring. I can spruce them up as I like. There is no limit to imagination or creativity.
    Hiding in complicated places defeats the purpose of a diary. It should be accessible if I want to note all that I wish to.

The last and most important rules are something that I missed while growing up. All through my teenage years, I always had the fear that people would read my diary if I kept one. And that my privacy and personal thoughts would be intruded upon. It was only after I grew up that realization struck.

    People have better things to do than read random diaries, especially when they already know minute details of my life thanks to me and my big mouth.
    Stop reading diaries of other people. It is sneaky and incites others to do the same!

To get back on topic, I wish I had taken up this good habit earlier. 20+ years of musings and happenings all undocumented except in my head. [ which is not very reliable, unbiased or even kind! 😦 ]
But better late than never. I now have tiny notepads and all scribbled with various milestones of my recent life, snatches of thoughts and detailed accounts of kindnesses done by me and to me.
It will be fun to read it when I’m old and toothless (well, no real teeth, anyway) and wrinkled and chuckle over my naïveté and mischief.

And just so my children don’t have any such regrets, when I have kids and they are old enough to write, I shall gift them a tiny diary every year, complete with lock and key* and pens and pencils. Meanwhile, it’s off to add yesterday’s cheery thoughts in that little notepad.

*apples don’t fall far from the trees, do they? My kids will need lockable diaries if I am to have any domestic peace. 😀

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