Another notebook is nearly full. My goal is to fill a notebook a month. Yes, there are notebooks that adorn my shelves and fill baskets everywhere. What am I to do? I have a lot to say.
Mixed feelings stir inside me when the ending of a notebook is near. Melancholy. A sadness that the journey with this notebook is over, yet excitement to begin with a new one. I grieve for a while as the old notebook is set aside and eventually stored in a basket or on a shelf.
It must be hard for the notebook to understand.
Seriously? You have no idea.
Excuse me? I reply to the voice.
You carry me around with you everywhere for a solid month or more. I give you my pages and they accept everything your pen scribbles into me. I never whine or complain. So patient, I am. Waiting and waiting for your words. Oh so grateful when your hand finally reaches for my spine in the mornings. Everything I give — you complete me and then. . . I’m set aside. . . like a one night stand.
Oh, Dear Notebook of Mine,
That is not how it is. I treasure you! My heart fills with anguish the closer I get to the last of your pages, knowing that soon – I have to let you go – and begin again.
It doesn’t feel that way to me. I see all those other notebooks tucked away in baskets and stacked on your shelves. Forgotten – for years. In a day or two, that will be me.
Oh, Dear Notebook of Mine,
You are correct. I’m so sorry. But – I do visit you from time to time, rereading your pages, reliving the joys we spent together.
That’s not enough. I am meaningless sitting in a basket. I want to be used.
But, that is not true, Dear Notebook. It could not be further from the truth. You contain pieces of me that no human in this world has. You hold my history – the stories of me. I give you ALL of me.
Well. . . .
You are my safest place, Dear Notebook. I trust you to hold these tender stories and keep them safe. Forever, if need be. You have such a responsibility – all the gems I’ve given you – a treasure box you are. And just like treasures that are sometimes buried or lost at sea for millions of years, so must you.
Millions of years? I don’t have that much time.
But, you must. It is an honor to be a notebook and house history. One day, I will be gone, but you will still be here, carrying all that I was, you help me to live on – for my children and grandchildren. You are that carrier, the link, the sweet nectar of my humanness. Tending to these stories is a privilege bestowed to you.
I’m sorry . . . I guess I didn’t realize.
It’s quite alright, Dear Notebook, you are young and want to be the center of attention for a little while longer. I understand. Once you are with the other notebooks, you will become wise. You will learn of your importance.
Okay. I will try to understand. And, be more patient. I will. I promise.
You, Dear Notebook, are the Keeper of the Flame for this short period of my life – January 22nd to March 5th of 2017. Only YOU alone holds this part of me. You need to guard it with your life.
Yes, I will. I am honored to be this protector of your history. But. . . when will you come back and visit me? I don’t know any of those other notebooks, even.
I may – I may not. Even so – be willing to live on. The other notebooks are your friends.
Yes, yes. . . I must. . . I will. Thank you. Thank you so much for giving me your heart – your soul. For trusting me. I understand now. Good bye, dear friend. . . until we meet again.
Good bye, dear friend as well. And, thank you, for waiting for me each day and greeting me with your open arms.
I love you.
And, I love you.
Here I sit. . . in tears. . . saying good by to a notebook. Did I just say, “I love you?”. . to my notebook?
Good heavens. What has become of me.
I am grateful I am home alone today.
Mysteriously, this song came on my Pandora station as I finished this post:
I love it when my angels do that. 🙂
I’m participating in twowritingteachers March Challenge of posting a blog post every day for the month of March. To check out other writers, visit here.
10 thoughts on “Saying Goodbye To Another Notebook ~ SOL #5 ~2017”
Sweet story. I’ve wondered what becomes of those old notebooks.im not sure I want to leave me ne for others to read.
OK, this is brilliant. For so many reasons. I am just sad for your notebook that this post is not in it. I hope it doesn’t get jealous of your blog. 🙂
In awe of this gorgeous piece. I printed it out and plan to share it with teachers at my next workshop. I had so many favorite lines – here are a few: “You hold my history – the stories of me.” “You have such a responsibility – all the gems I’ve given you – a treasure chest you are.”
I love the personification of the notebook! You’re right–it is such a large piece of us. It feels sad to finish one, but exciting to start a new one. I think I might turn this into a writing prompt for my students!
Finishing a notebook is like fare-welling a friend. This constant companion is moving across to a new role as a reading reference. I enjoyed the style you employed to share your experience of reaching the end point. Your notebooks are the footprints of your journey and proof you have existed. A treasure chest.
I loved romping along reading your dialogue. And then a huge ball of guilt flew out of the sky and blobbed my brain. I don’t even want to think of how many UNFINISHED notebooks I have lying about my house, let alone those lurking at school. Hmmmm…what’s up with that? I like your ambitious goal to complete a notebook every month. Nice.
Shari, I’m jealous of your ability to maintain a single notebook at a time (or maybe you don’t?). I’m not good about carrying one around, so my snippets and musings–while largely confined to a single notebook at one time–live within my phone, a number of pads and books, or even loose pieces of paper. Thank you for a wonderful slice!
Wow, what a piece! When I sat down to write in my notebook today for my slice, I actually wrote “I’m going old school. It’s just me and my notebook. We’re sitting in the coffee shop.” That “we” cracked me up when I went back through the piece to revise it into my published slice. I changed it to “I” but the “we” is how I really felt! A notebook every month is stunning to me. I usually complete a notebook every six months or so, but I’ve had this one since May and it’s not even half full. Stark evidence of just how little writing I’ve been doing. Hoping to fill more quickly during March!
I love this conversation between you and your notebook. Favorite part: “You are that carrier, the link, the sweet nectar of my humanness. Tending to these stories is a privilege bestowed to you.” And I watched the music video, the otter pic was pure bliss! Thanks for sharing.