I forgot to write…

I forgot to write.

It’s why my children will never find a dusty old file box full of worn composition notebooks. They will never discover a lifetime of written moments. No journals to decipher when I’m gone…learning who I was and how I changed. No scribbled pages, blotted with tears and truths.

They might find a Year here and a Month there. Moments when I felt compelled to keep a record of something. Moments when I needed a place to put things. Thoughts.

But the words will end long before the story is over. Because inevitably…

I forgot to write.


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