Narcissa Rostand's Journal - The Rostand

Ch 51

After my Dana went to live with her husband and his parents I started to realize that I was getting on in my years.

With 51 years to my name, three wonderful children plus one granddaughter and another incoming, besides a great number of cousins, second-cousins and nieces and nephews, I realized that I had to pen it all down seriously.

I first faced the family tree, ever-growing and changing, and once that project was as close to finished as it could at the moment, I thought to write down my memoirs.

To that end I went searching for my old diaries, and I'm sure that if I were to read what I decided to start this journal with, I would cringe before attempting to amend it. That is what I've learnt from writing this last journal of old remembrances that won't be really important for my descendants: perfection doesn't exist; even if for a moment you think you captured the exact essence of what you wanted to express, only the most vital part of the imformation, once you backtrack you realize you were just getting airs of grandeur.

So I won't read it, I won't edit it; I'll just let my future how-many-grandchildren know about all parts of me here depicted: the silly ones, the devious ones, the maternal ones. One day they'll read about me and my dreams and aspirations, the friends I made and the family I was Head of proudly ever since I was 17 years old, and know that I was more than the name of that old Lady Rostand - that I was a real person, just like them.