Six years ago that night I started recording my thoughts about you in my pink diary that mom had given me the year before. It had a picture of a ballerina on the cover, I always wanted to be one…but quit lessons when I was your age because that drill sergeant of a teacher kept telling me to point my toes and I really got tired of her insisting on it. I liked the music and the floating around like good little flower ballerinas do, but I admit it, I hate when anyone ever tries to boss me around.
So back to the journal, I wrote every day because someday I wanted to tell you what it was like…the year you were born. That diary, I guess became a habit that lasted and lasted through my high school years. I found out that writing helps me worry less. I am going away to college in one week and am going to tell the straight truth of what it was really like during my 7th grade year.
Probably I should describe myself first or how I viewed myself when I looked in the long hallway mirror. I know you’ve looked at yourself there too. For some reason I always look at my feet first, I guess it is because I used to dream about cool shoes and maybe getting white leather Go-Go boots with black stacked heels. Maybe Grandma would get them for me because she loved me to look ‘mod’. My legs were super skinny and I got to wear pretty short mini-skirts that Grandma sewed. Mom was so opposed, but she never fought with grandma, so I was safe with clothes. Now back to the mirror, going up the length of my body I saw absolutely the flattest chest probably on this side of the Mississippi… sigh…and now on to my face. It was okay, I guess. I had dimples and straight teeth when I smiled. My hair was cut short because mom said that it was on the ‘thin’ side. But what I hated most was my brown glasses perched on my nose, the only perfect thing on my body! Others would say my eyes were my best feature because of their unusual color, but no one could see them under my spectacles anyway. So, I’m telling you that even though I did love my nose, at that point in my life; you could say that I was pretty insecure about myself in so many ways.
But at least I could tell you that I had a best friend. And I know right about now you’d be interrupting and saying,
“Ellie you got me, you had me too!”
And you were right, but I didn’t know that back then.
September 5th Our story begins…