Uncovering journals
As I sifted through the attic, I uncovered my parents’ old journals and letters. They were buried under a pile of moth-eaten blankets and rusted tins.
Carefully, I dusted off a leather-bound journal and began to read. My mother’s handwriting filled the yellowed pages, each entry seemingly more anxious than the last.
I knew these journals could hold the answers I was looking for, so I took a seat and continued reading, engrossed in her words.