Dear Creative Diary,
Well it’s up. It is up and ready for anyone and everyone to use!
An old rotary phone, quiet and waiting, perched on the porch like it’s been there forever. No dial tone, no buzz. Just stillness. A place to say the things you never got to say. The apology. The thank you. The why didn’t you? or the I miss you. It’s not magic, exactly- but it feels like it might be.
People have already used it. Sat down on the glider next to it. Picked it up, hesitated, and then… whispered. Or wept. Or just breathed.
I don’t listen in. That part’s sacred. But I do feel it. The way the air shifts. The weight lifted ever so slightly when someone hangs up. Like maybe a piece of their grief just found a home.
I put a little end table nearby- nothing fancy- that holds a book- so folks can jot down a name, a date, a fragment of a feeling if they want to. It’s not a guest book. It’s a witness box. For the ones who spoke, and the ones who still can’t. For the ones who left. For the ones you’re not ready to face. For the ones you’ll love forever, from a distance.
Sometimes people ask, “What’s it for?” and I just say, “It’s for whatever you need it to be.”
Because truthfully? It’s never too late. Not to love. Not to forgive. Not to remember. and that is the whole purpose for the Never Too Late Line.
Me – the one who built a quiet place for the loudest feelings
