Childhood Diary

Stories in the books by Andreka

I recently visited my mom's house and returned with a bag full of surprises: old pictures, letters and a diary I kept as an eleven year old. It made me smile and just as I was getting into my childhood musings, I realized most of its pages were missing. I must've ripped them out for fear of my mom reading through them (as she often did) or simply because I was embarrassed of my 11-year old self when I became a self-conscious teenager.

I wonder what kind of secrets and events took place in those pages. It's as if a huge chunk of my childhood is missing and all I have are these hazy, fleeting memories in my head. 

According to the few pages that remain, I stayed up late studying for a map test because I wanted to be the top of my class. I was preparing for a speech for our graduation ceremony.  I was disappointed that I didn't win the best student award. I was nervous about junior high and sad to be leaving my teacher and friends. I had a secret crush on some boy and was sad that he was exchanging letters with another girl in class. 

Some things haven't changed since age 11 to now, twenty years later.  I still enjoy staying up late alone and wonder if my crush thinks about me. 

"Do you still think I'm beautiful?" I asked my husband last night while getting ready for bed. 

"Of course I do baby, why do you even ask?" He replied matter-of-factly as if I was asking an unnecessary and trifling question.

There remained a silent distance between us; between my silly question and his indifferent answer. 

What was I trying to prove? Of course he did. We've been married for nearly 8 years and we have two beautiful children together. Of course he thinks I'm beautiful.

All night I tossed and turned, tired yet unable to slow down the memories flooding my mind.

This morning I stirred awake as my husband was putting Neosporin on my scarred shoulder. I had accidentally burned myself with a curling iron last weekend and the burn is a lot worse than I thought. It felt good, in a comforting kind of way, and reminded me of my childhood when my mom used to tend my scars. I murmured "thank you honey" and drifted back to sleep as he got ready for work.

Just like my scar and everything else in life, beauty will fade. And just as I look at my college graduation pictures and realize I was a lot prettier than I thought I was at the time, I'll one day look at today's pictures and think wow, I look so much younger here.

I know what really matters is not outward beauty but beauty that radiates from within, the kind that transcends time. It took nearly 30 years to truly love and appreciate myself--yet this doesn't change my womanly desire to be beautiful in my lover's eyes- ten, twenty and thirty years from now.

I wonder if he thinks about me even as he's immersed in work, exchanging words and glances with other beautiful people in the world. I wonder if he sees my beauty within. And when he does, I hope he can feel my heart that remains pure regardless of the passing time; immovable, unchangeable and reserved for him and him only.