The Weight of Words

Anya stared at the diary, dust coating its cover.
She narrowed her eyes; it looked unrecognizable to her.
She wiped the dust, and her heart started to race,
As recognition flashed across her face.
It wasn’t as heavy as she thought it would be,
She thought, as she picked it up delicately.

But it had weight…

The weight of words that carried emotions untold,
Written by the shaking hands of a 5-year-old.
The weight of laughter ringing in its numerous pages,
Serving the test of several ages.
On the weighing scale, it didn’t leave much trace,
But in her heart, it took up space.
With each turn of its pages, opened a new world,
As each flap meant another memory unfurled:
Memories of picnics, field trips, and vacations,
Memories of swimming and various explorations.
The wooden fibers were held with emotions;
The tingling of joy, the thumping of nervousness, and the feeling of fun.
Her diary was more than what she had thought,
It held all the moments she had written and forgot.
It absorbed the silent, shed splashes of tears,
It comforted her in the worst of her fears.
It was a bridge built out of words and lines,
To connect the past to present times.
A living proof that feelings and memories can’t be touched or stored,
But they can be presented, revisited, and adored.