few years ago, I embarked on a major decluttering project. I was determined to get our storage closet in order. Boxes of mementos, piles of old toys, and dusty files were all jumbled on top of each other, and I had the urge to finally sort it out. I spent hours going through the closet, sifting through what was important and what was not and taking many trips to the garage between decisions. During this rather wired and frantic process (I drank a few cups of coffee before beginning), I came across something I had forgotten about: a box full of my old journals from childhood. Opening the box instantly quieted my soul. It was as if time stood still as I carefully pulled out each journal
