A Journal of Sorts

Tuesday, 30 March 1999

Tom's Journal

Tom was inspired to help me with the spring cleaning/unpacking project yesterday. He started with books. I'm glad, too, because boxes of books aren't my favorite thing to schlepp around. I can barely lift some of them.

He started with the technical/computer books by rearranging the bookcase in the computer room and unpacking what technical books of mine that he could easily find. When I was admiring his handiwork, I noticed a few volumes of those record books on the shelf and asked him if he had found some of my old journals. I was surprised because (confess) I throw my old journals in the trash soon after I finish them. Every now and then, though, I run across one that I overlooked.

As it turns out, they were HIS journals. My husband keeps journals, something I sure didn't know before. (I knew he kept everything else, but not journals). Of course, I asked him if I could read them and he said, without hesitation, yes.

One of the first things I did this morning was browse through his journals for dates and selected the earliest one. He was 19! It is hard for me to imagine that my husband was EVER 19 . . certainly ~I~ was never that young.

He was a college student, moaning about his GPA and geometry. There was a prayer to a marshmallow and wishes that he had a half ounce of brains. He looked forward to going home and seeing his family and his girlfriend. There was an entry about a pair of smelly socks on his desk.

There were also entries of a more serious nature, thoughts on an autumn morning, ponderings on infinity, observing thunderstorms; he was a cloud watcher then as he is now. I also read some entries on spiritual matters so profound that they are completely beyond my comprehension.

That's where I stopped reading . . those entries ruffled my soul. He was a good man then and is a good man now.