A few years ago, I’d have rather stuck needles in my eyes than go to a scrapbook crop. But my world was so different then—before we had the boys and before we gave up living in the D.C. area, trying to find reasonable daycare, and a way to manage two careers and a new baby. Sometimes, I wondered if my child knew the difference between me and any other bottle-wielding, dark-haired woman. It just about killed me.
Soon, another baby was on its way and Mike and I knew change was inevitable. So I quit my job as an investigative reporter and we moved to the sleepy village of Cumberland Creek, where the cost of living is more manageable. It’s taken me awhile to find a friend or two and now I have a group of friends with one thing in common: they crop until they drop—every Saturday night. They are all so different, but they’ve known each other forever. Vera is a sort of a Southern belle that owns the local dancing school, Paige is a middle-age ex-hippy that teaches history at Cumberland Creek High School, and DeeAnn is a big-boned Midwest transplant that owns a successful little bakery on Main Street. As you’d expect, her baking is extraordinary—but the other scrapbookers are no slouches in the kitchen and always bring food to share. I’ve probably gained five pounds just since I started going to the weekly crops.
Surprisingly enough, I look forward to getting together weekly and yes, even to scrapbooking. After all, I am a writer and scrapbooking is simply visual storytelling—although sometimes it offers much, much more, like clues to an untimely death of a young mother who lives in your neighborhood. A mother with secrets. We all have secrets, don’t we? Have you ever wondered what your papers would say about you after you’re gone? I shudder to think.
To find out more about Scrapbook of Secrets, please visit MollieCoxBryan.com