Yesterday and Today
Alone at last.
Upstairs in my room, I sat on the floor next to my bed. My hands shook a little as I stared down at the diary. My mother’s diary. My mother, who I had never met because she died giving birth to me. Now I held in my hands the diary she kept when she was my age. I was finally going to “meet” her . . . at least, sort of.
Earlier in the day, my best friend, Lily, and I had found the diary hidden in a secret closet in a room I usually refer to...