main characters

By Leandra Boysen

Like many feeling adrift in the midst of global hurt and uncertainty, last year I moved. Amongst the natural progression of picking up your life, your framed moments, your written secrets, your covers and clothes, I found the gems. I found a tiny

old picture I had kept of my grandpa as a toddler in a snowsuit in the Minnesota woods. I found a letter my baby sister wrote to me my freshman year of college, telling me she missed me. And I found the journal I kept in college during and after my most significant romantic relationship.

I took this time capsule to my new home, brushed the dust off, and set it in my nightstand, knowing one day soon I’d come back to relive the words I had written. Many nights came when I thought I might open the cover, but too often decided that I did not have the energy today for that dive.

A perfect storm of journal prompts, dating woes, and a community of witches finally brought me to take a peek.

Things I found: -At times, a surprising clarity and awareness for a girl arguably still so young -A cringeworthy tendency for the dramatic flair -The unguarded heart that I hope still exists beneath the collected walls and calluses of today -A note to self: “It’s been hard times, love.”

I found myself at times proud of the past Leandra writing these lines and impressed by how much I already understood about life. I found myself at times so sad and disappointed by the things I did not yet see in myself. I filled these pages with hurt and with hope. I filled these pages, more than once, after crumbling on the floor in a wave of tears (I warned you of the dramatic flair). I was searching for things that I am now so grateful I never found. I was setting the stitches for a new life I now wear with grace.

The critical mass of this journal was devoted to one stupid boy and his actions and consequences. My past self, my girl, lost sight of who she was and what she was capable of. However, after these added years, after shifting passions, after new loves and losses and selves, something entirely outside the substance of these pages catches my attention. It occurs to me that we’re meant to encounter pieces of life which whisper the direction of our journey, even if we can’t hear it at the time.

In this iteration of re-reading, I spotted two quotes I had passed over so quickly before, two quotes so easy to miss when focusing on the wrong character.

The first, eight pages in: “I want to leave people happier than when I found them.”

The second, a scribble on the last free page and four years later, a quote from a friend that I found special enough to record: “You have a great ability to bring people in to you and relate to them and make them feel like they’ve known you for years.”

A whole journal spent on processing the pain inflicted by a boy, bookended by an accomplished dream I never even noticed I had fulfilled. It’s encouraging to know that although my journey has been clouded at times, my true character has been deep in the storyline, centering the focus, always.