A diary entry

There was a period of time when my mother kept a diary while I was very small. One day during my college break, I happened to be organizing my mother’s bookshelves, and I found the notebook.

The first entry was about the reason why she had started the diary. At the time, I was about three, and my mother wanted me to write a diary so that I could learn how to write. But apparently, I had no interest in it. One evening, she was complaining about it to my father over dinner, who replied,

“Why don’t you start a diary? Your daughter will be inspired.”

I haven’t thought of that, thought my mother.

From the very next day, she started writing her diary in a place where I could see her. This strategy worked brilliantly. In no time, I was sitting next to her with my own notebook, writing down words at a great speed. I was competing against her.

“How much have your written?” I would look over my mother’s notebook to check how many lines she had written. “Watch out, Mommy, because I’m going to beat you!”

This is how the new diary practice had begun between a mother and her little daughter.