October 3, 2011

I guess if I'm going to keep this, I might as well tell you a little about myself and my family, though why I'm bothering, I don't know, since I'm going to make sure no one ever reads this. Maybe it's the ghost of the 13-year-old diary keeper I was once still influencing me. I remember at that age for every diary I started (and never finished) I would fill out the first three pages with facts about myself, including a physical description practically extensive enough to provide an FBI profile. I won't get that into it nineteen years later, but I still feel like I should at least briefly sum us up, even if this is only for me.

My name is Leslie Selwyn; my husband Dean and I have been married for ten years, having met at Ellis Tech when we attended. Our daughters, Evangeline Maria and Audrina Rose, are in third and first grade, nine and seven years old, and as you might have figured base off their names, have a mother who is something of a literature buff. I don't get to use that much at work- I'm a real estate agent, Dean is a chiropractor- but I enjoy my job reasonably well, and we make a good living. Our girls are lovely, sweet, and well-behaved, and despite Audrina's difficulties, and the feelings I sometimes have about Evangeline, really very good and loving children. Really we are very blessed. There's not much I can say that we need or are lacking.

And nothing happened with Evangeline today, by the way. It was a very typical night, very peaceful. The girls helped me get dinner ready and watched TV; I helped Audrina with her homework and tried to talk to her about her day while Evangeline volunteered details of her own. After dinner the girls played Clue with Dean and he tucked them into bed, and all day, the girls were really very good, getting along well. I even saw Evangeline whispering to Audrina a few times, smiling as she shared with her sister whatever childish thoughts or secrets must have crossed her mind.

I feel silly already, thinking all that I wrote yesterday. Looking at it on paper and watching Evangeline now…well, it's just silly. She's a little girl, not perfect, but certainly not strange. There's nothing wrong with her. I'm sure it was all my imagination.