
I used to start my day for years in bed with coffee and a notebook, listening to the birds sing, writing about whatever was on my mind. When my daughter went to college, I had a reverse nesting binge. I went through decades of notebooks I stored in a trunk and tried to get out what I wanted to keep and get rid of the rest. I didn't want so much left behind when I was gone. I was young, still am, at close to 49. Even in 2003, I had a sense of wanting to get my house in order for when I was no longer here. Didn't get very far except with the notebooks. I kept a few in my handwriting but most I discarded and I typed up journals on my computer of what I wanted to keep. As it turned out most of what I wanted to keep was my record of when the birds were up: notes like - I can't sleep, it's 2:00 am and somebody is singing to me. I guess I'll see if I can figure it out from my bird book. If I woke up at 5:00 am and they weren't up yet, I would make note of it and then record when they were up and how many different songs I identified. I also kept a record of my evolving secret garden. All the anxt over friends, my music, my job, family, even goals and desires were gone, poof. I kept a log of birds, plants, walks, some trips but little else. I did keep a few of my political and philisophical essays though doubtful that they were worth keeping. Now if I write in my notebook at all it's a few sentences every other week.

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