Journal - Easel Musings - Week 14 - Challenge

You know there's something so therapeutic to me about writing with a piece of paper and pen. Everyone I know thinks I'm so old fashioned.

"Computers would be so much easier," they say.

"You'd be done in a quarter of the time," they chastise.

"Wake up and smell the twenty-first century," they scold.

I don't care; I don't listen to what any of them say. Journaling is about me and my feelings. When I write my thoughts I feel so much more organized. The feel of the pen going over the paper and the smell of the ink on the page is a catharsis for me.

It's funny, before Bob died I wouldn't have even thought of keeping a journal. I guess it was in Charter Pines Mental Hospital where I first began this practice. You should have seen the pages and pages I wrote while I was in there. They must have chopped down a whole tree just for me.

I would never consider getting married again. It's my pen and paper that keep my company. They are my solace after a long day. They occupy my thoughts when I wake up in the morning and go to sleep at night. They are my companion during meals. Now, I wouldn't have it any other way.

"Good night, pen. See you in the morning. Good night, paper. Sleep well."