Be Humble and Give Back

If I told you that there was a book that could make all of your dreams come true, would you believe me? I doubt it. You would probably scoff at me as you walk away, never intending on speaking to me again. That’s fine. Really, I don’t care. Because, I didn’t think it was possible either. I never imagined that a book could grant me a wish. A wish I had kept secret since I was that small, fragile child hiding from a monster who called me son.

I found it when I was walking home from band practice. I know, I was a band geek. You would have been too if it was the only thing that kept you from your house. The sky was dark and there wasn’t a star in the sky. It was just me and the reprimanding anguish that I carried with me, like a beaten dog carrying his shameful prey he was forced to catch.

As memories and dreadful promises flashed through my mind over and over, I caught a glimpse of the book. It was like a dream. I remember the road feeling big with me in the middle of it. I was dragging my feet along the pebble pieces as I anticipated getting closer to a home that didn’t want me there. I looked over at the bushes of Mr. Patterson’s house. It was an old house that all of the kids stayed away from. The trees were overgrown and almost on top of his roof, and the bushes hadn’t been cut in years. I didn’t mind it. It still didn’t scare me the most. As I walked past it, I noticed a light shining just under the bushes to the right of the entrance to his under-kept house. I don’t know what came over me, but I had to get a closer look. Anything to stall my getting home.

Once I got to the book, I noticed it’s hard black walls, like a dungeon for the weak and weary. I grabbed it as it’s light dimmed just enough for me to read the cover. “Wishes,” is what it read. I scoffed at the idea. Every wish I had ever had never came true. Even the ones your parents say to wish for so that they can make it come true. None of that ever happened to me.

I proceeded to open the book and it was blank. What a crock, I thought to myself. I threw it down and went home.

See, I was just like you. I thought it was a dumb book. A book that Mr. Patterson probably put there to play a prank on pesky kids. But, when I got home and ran to my room, I noticed it there on my bed. It took me a while to calm down and realize no one had seen me with that book. I don’t have time for details. Just trust me on this one.

I began writing in the book like it was a journal. I believed it was a book for wishes, so I wrote them. Hey, I was only ten years old. I was still full of hopes and dreams. Even after life I lived being horrible like you cannot imagine.

I wrote five pages wishing my parents loved me. Wishing they didn’t fight and they had jobs. I wrote to any kind of god that would listen to me. I pleaded with that book to make all their needles disappear. To dry up their desire to get high at any cost. I simply wanted to be happy and not alone.

It wasn’t until I woke up the next morning that I believed.

I woke to the smell of bacon and eggs cooking, something I had only had at school. My room was different. Instead of the old brown wallpaper, there was grey paint. My room was bigger too. I had a television and a nice bed with covers. Actual blankets!

When I walked down stairs, I saw my dad kissing my mom. Wow.

“Oh hey, buddy! Glad you’re finally up! Come sit with your Pop and tell me what you think about these new toys my company is manufacturing. We need some kids to test them out. What do ya say?”

“Uh, sure,” I mumbled back, still in shock.

That day was the best day of my life. I received more love in that one tiny day than I had ever imagined I would get throughout my days on this earth.

So, I did something else. I wrote in the book that I wanted $20,000. Why would I do that? Because it was a ton of money and I had gotten greedy. Having the loving, successful parents I had always wanted wasn’t enough!

My dad wrote me the check and told me to cash it on my way to band practice. Turns out, I actually liked playing the tuba.

As I was walking down the sidewalk, I noticed Mr. Patterson’s house again. The way it looked and how I remember living in something even worse. I felt the pain that I thought I would forget once I had all the money and love I wanted.

I saw him limping to get his mail. Our eyes met and he quickly looked down as if to say, “Sorry I didn’t realize.” I walked closer to him and noticed a letter he had gotten in the mail. We chatted a bit that day and he informed me that the city wanted to tear down his house because of how it was, “Contrasted with their new shopping mall.” It was to be put up across the street.

I saw the fear in his eyes. I saw the worry and the pain. Mr. Patterson told me that the house he lived in was the house his parents bought when they immigrated from Mexico. He was the youngest and only surviving of that family and he intended to keep the house at all costs.

I told him goodbye and went to practice. A week had passed and I still found myself thinking about Mr. Patterson. How he had no one. There I was complaining about my life when there were so many other people out there struggling, just like me.

Becky in my english class had just lost her dad to suicide. Jack was in a foster home for the fifth time this year. It was only March. Anabelle and her sister Mary never had clean clothes to wear. Almost every kid I came into contact with I could come up with something they weren’t happy with in their life.

That’s when I decided to pass on the book. I wrote this letter to guide you. Hopefully, you take it seriously and aren’t selfish with it. I hope it blesses you like it did me.

Oh, and just so you know, I used the $20,000 to fix up Mr. Patterson’s yard and my dad helped fix up his house. He was the happiest little old man. We visited him every Saturday morning and I could tell it was the highlight of his week.

I say this to remind you that we can all write nasty things in the black book. We can wish our enemies dead and that we rule the world. But, what good would that do for our neighbors and friends and colleagues? How would that help in any way but for our own selfish gain? Anyway, it doesn't matter because any kind of nasty wish is never granted. I can’t tell you how I know this, but I just do. So, don’t even try it.

Keep this note and add some of your own if you wish when you pass the book on. Remember: No matter how advanced this world may get, writing pen to paper is more beneficial than we care to admit.

Be creative and be humble. The world really is beautiful and there is room for all of us to live in it.

“Breaking News: Man Claims Book He Received in the Mail is Magic.

A Tennessee man claims to have received a black book in his mailbox Monday morning. He said it was blank and after he started writing in it, the things he wrote came true. He also stated that there was a letter in it written from someone dated back to 1956. There was no name with it, but it was from Texas.”

“A school in Africa just came into a major strike of luck. The children got all new school clothes along with a brand new school building and school supplies. There are also rumors to begin construction on a new business that could bring jobs and help grow the economy. Unbelievable.”

“Today is January 2021 and the Coronavirus pandemic is still going strong. That is until a mysterious black book was found in the hands of a small girl from England who claims she wished the pandemic away. The CDC is investigating the stall of COVD-19 cases and will issue a response promptly.”