My Diary’s Ending

June 7, 1962
This is my own secret diary and it belongs to me and no one can read it or I won’t love them anymore.

Dear Diary,

I am mad at my Mom, but I can’t tell anyone cause they get mad at me. When I talk to my Dad he just shakes his head and tells me everything will be all right, but when I talk to God I don’t get any answer like that. I can’t talk to my Grandma cause tears get in her eyes and I’m afraid she’s going to cry and if she cries then I will cry too. My grandpa won’t listen cause he says he can’t hear me when I ask questions, but he can hear baseball games on the radio, so why can’t he hear me? No one will talk to me about my Mom.

That’s not all true. No one will talk to me about my Mom except my Grandma Prudie. She says in 85 years of living she’s seen and heard everything, so if I want to talk about my Mom she’ll listen. Even if I cry. Even if I scream. Even if I go sulk under the Bridal Wreath Bush for three days. She’ll be there when I want to talk again. She listens to every word I say and never tells me go away or I’m busy. Maybe when you’re that old, you don’t have anything to be busy with.

Now, Diary. You know my problem cause I’ve written about it before. Sometimes it helps to write and grind my pencil into my paper and let tears slide down my face and onto the lines so they get all blurry. And here’s I write again, and about the same old thing. My Mom is sick.

She’s been sick since the middle of third grade when she went into the hospital and now it’s June and she hasn’t come home yet. Sometimes I think she died and no one tells me cause I would be more sad and I would cry more than I do. Maybe I would and maybe I wouldn’t, but a kid my age ought to know what’s going on.

Grandma Prudie says it might not be so bad. That there just might be a happy ending. But when I ask her what the happy ending is, my Grandma shakes her head and says she can’t tell me. She promised my Dad. And even though Prudie thinks I’m old enough to know she says my Dad should be the one to tell me and not her.

But my Dad won’t. Even if I ask and beg and lock myself in the bathroom.

So that’s why I’m mad at my Mom and my Dad and everybody else, even Prudie because she knows and she won’t tell.

This is my secret diary and it belongs to Bo and no one can read it but me.

July 1, 1962
Dear Diary,

I am the happiest girl in the world. My Grandma and Grandpa and Prudie and I all sat in the living room like my Dad told us. He said he’s be home early. He was visiting my Mom in the hospital.

Then Dad came home and he was smiling big and he had something behind his back, but he wouldn’t let me see it. He said I have a nice surprise for you. Mom is feeling better and she sent me a Polaroid especially for you. And Dad gave me a brown envelope and told me to open it. Inside was a picture of my Mom and her hair was curly like she’d gone to the beauty shop and she had a gigantic smile and lipstick, too.

And then I looked at her nightgown to see if it was the pink one I had picked out for her when I went shopping with Dad. And she had on my nightgown, but something looked wrong. Her belly was all fat and I was afraid she had some sickness in there. Then my Dad said do you see that, Bo? Do you see Mom’s big belly? She’s growing a baby in there. She’s having a baby sister or brother for you. Isn’t that great? That’s exactly what he said.

But then I felt mad again and said they should have told me. Dad said that Mom and the baby had to rest and the baby had to get big and strong before she could be born. They didn’t tell me in case there was another problem cause she nearly died, but now every thing’s okay now. I want a sister. I hope Mom and Dad let me name her. I’ll name her Elizabeth Rose. Elizabeth because I could call her Betsy like my Betsy McCall paper doll and we’d be sisters named Bo and Betsy and then I’ll put in Rose because Mom’s favorite flower is a Rose.

I’m so happy I could jump up and down on the bed and sing and dance. I am a tiny bit sad because Mom has to wait for the baby to be born before she comes home and that might take awhile yet.

A baby sister. I can’t believe it. Elizabeth Rose.

This is my diary and if you want to read this story you can because it is a very happy story. It will make you happy.

Bo

ps. Dad read my diary tonight and he says I have to be happy with a brother even though I want a sister. But I get to name him. Dad said so for sure. I just might name him Bowser or maybe Buster. Ha! Ha!