Dear Diary,

It’s Sunday evening; I just got home from Bette’s.  I went over there late Friday and apologized.  I walked up to her door with a single white rose and thankfully she opened the door.  She looked horrible, like she had been crying for two days.  But then again, I bet that I didn’t look much better.

She thankfully let me in and we went to sit on her couch, farther apart than we normally would and the distance was felt.  I started with telling her that I am sorry that I didn’t tell her my birthday, I should have but I didn’t. 

I went on to say that we need to talk more and not that I didn’t like eating out, watching movies and our recent more physical activities but we other than that one time of 20 questions haven’t really discussed other things.  I took out a photo album that I had brought with me and started by opening it and pointing to a picture that I had copied from my parents’ album.  It was of me all of 3 hours old in my mothers’ arms with the date of May 23, 1971 written on the bottom.  I told her my birthday; that I was born only after 5 hours of labor in the local North Carolina hospital that my father was hoping for a boy to carry on the family name and that they’ve always said that as soon as the doctor said “It’s a girl” my father started crying because I looked up at him with his hazel eyes.  So Christina Anne Kennard was born healthy and happy, screaming loudly all 8 pounds of her.  She seemed surprised that I was 26 but not in a negative way.  I turned a few pages to show a picture of one eight year old blue eyed and one four year old hazel eyed little girl both covered in mud sitting on the porch steps after obviously enjoying the rain that had fallen earlier that day.  Then onto when I was ten and there was Sarah aged fourteen and myself sitting with my mom on a hospital bed with her holding little Rebekah.  I was looking down at her smiling at her.  I flipped to the end of the book to the weekend thanksgiving of last year to Sarah, Beka and myself sitting on the couch smiling at our father who had just brought in the cake for Beka’s 15^th birthday.