Rifling through my daughters’ mess is as routine as drinking coffee for me. I found this journal entry [which I am publishing without express permission whatsoever], among the rubbish strewn all over the floor. A lot of emotions hit me at once after reading Bea’s fourth-grade scrawl: one, thankful that my kids are taking to heart my daily sermon [visions of my girls getting pregnant before finishing their studies add to my wrinkles everyday]; two, elated that they are showing signs of aptitude for writing [I’d be so embarrassed if they couldn’t write]; and third, horrified that some boy actually wrote my ten year-old Bea a love letter! [I’m hesitant about confronting her about it considering I invaded her privacy no matter how unintentional]. Whew! This motherhood business is getting to be more complicated than I once thought.
Someone gave me a letter. Not just a letter but a love letter. It said: Dear Me, “Beatrice I love you very much.” I think I have a secret admirer. It maybe Dennis. But my parents said I should not have a crush or anything. So I will obey their order. So I will not have a crush. That’s it for today. Tomorrow again.