The book was nondescript, plain. Surprising, considering my late mother was anything but. Everyone remembers her as that social butterfly, the beautiful cheerleader, lighting up every room that she inhabited. But, this diary was from way back in 1979, when my mom was still growing into her gangly limbs and discovering her interest in boys for the very first time. My mom passed away when I was only five years old; I jumped at the chance to learn more about the woman who lived in only blurry memories. I understood how historians must feel to find old papyrus documents written over three thousand years ago. So, I opened to the first page, studying every single detail. I don't know what I was expecting. Something serious, maybe? Oh, but I was wrong. So wonderfully wrong. My mom's diary was full of unintentional humor. You know how I mentioned her interest in boys? Oh, there was so much interest. Nearly every entry was about the 'dud' (dude) she had seen at church that day, how they would get married one day. The next day, she would find another boy she thought was cute and discard the other one. There were occasions where she would talk about a purse that she wanted, oh, so desperately and how her mom wouldn't let her buy it. "Sure, I already have five other ones, but I need THAT one specifically." There's so much more that I want to mention, but have to leave out for brevity. Of course, there was an undercurrent of insecurity in her writing also. She mentioned how she was made fun of for her gangly limbs, her lanky body. She felt unattractive. And, you know, that really hit hard. To think that she would later become the social butterfly... I wondered if these early insecurities caused her to change herself in any way. I could really identify with that. I've always felt that kind of thing, as I'm sure others do. But, I think that has helped me become a little closer to her. I've never been super 'popular' or good at being traditionally feminine, but at least my mom and I can understand each other in some way.