I can’t tell you how many diaries I have begun in my lifetime. There are several of those little books with a lock still in my mother’s possession that chronicle the exploits of 8-year-old or 10-year-old Camille, but only for a couple days. (These are riveting, by the way, as you might expect.) I have just never been good at keeping up with that stuff. I have various other items that serve that purpose for me. For example, I have a collection of “notes” written between my girlfriends and I in middle and high school. I put notes in quotation marks because although that’s what we called them, most of these are multi-page letters that range from funny what-I-did-today reports to soul searching accounts of lost love or anguish over teenage decisions.
I started a journal for Stella a few months after she was born. To date, it has 10 or fewer entries. Journaling is just not my style, however much I try to force it on myself. Recently though, I saw an idea that is much more my speed. And the result of that idea is this,
a photographic journal of sorts that I’ll do each year. This photo alone says so much about my Turtle. It is one of those perfect, straight-out-of-the-camera shots that you know is a classic the second you see it on the preview screen.
I love it.