Grandfather’s Book

For as long as I had known my grandfather, he always had that book. The little black notebook with the soft leather cover and the black elastic band that held the whole thing shut. It wasn’t a thick book, and I often wondered as a young adult how it was not yet full, with his constant scribblings and adding to it. Perhaps he had multiple books I once pondered, but upon inspection of the book now in my hand, I recognized the same dents in the cover, the same worn upper right corner where he brushed his thumb back and forth while he was thinking. Of all the possessions my grandfather had, all the trinkets laden with memories, this was an odd gift to be left to me in his will. Everyone else had received keepsakes worth financially more, or pieces of his vast estate. My siblings would have thrown a fit, to be given this seemingly worthless book, but I wasn’t worried or bothered. He always had this on him, even on the day he passed. It was as much a part of my grandfather as his glasses or his pocket watch. And besides, he always had a reason for the things he did, even if they weren’t evident to anyone but him.

It took me a whole week after receiving it before I could bring myself to open the cover. I had often wondered what secrets were written on the pages, but this was the last piece of him I had. The little black notebook was a great mystery still to be solved, from a man who meant the world to me even after he wasn’t in it anymore. So finally, on a bench in the garden under a black walnut tree I had helped him plant when I was younger, I eased the front cover open and winced at the familiar creak of it. Inside I found quotes, short poems, an occasional memory, all in my grandfather’s long, tilted cursive scrawl. Anything he had heard or thought was of value was in this book. A recipe for my grandmother’s biscuits had been copied with care, a sketch of his favorite dog. This notebook was my grandfather, a glance inside the kind man I thought I knew so well. I flipped through the last pages, feeling my throat grow tight and my eyes go fuzzy, when my thumb landed on the inside of the back cover with a thud. On that cover was written my name, as elegant as I had ever seen it. And under my name, was taped a letter.

Carefully pulling the tape away from the cover, I unfolded the paper with shaking hands and watched as two items fell to the soft soil at my feet. I picked up the first, a rectangular piece of paper, a check, written out to me for twenty thousand dollars. The tight feeling in my throat was replaced by the pounding of my heart. What was such a large amount of money doing in such a hidden place? The second item shone in the dappled sunlight, a key. It wasn’t a new key for all that it still flashed in the light as I examined it, brushing away the specks of soil clinging to the grooves. The teeth were well worn and it looked like this key had been handled many times. I had never seen it before though, I had no memory of what it might unlock. A glance at the letter told me I wasn’t going to find any answers there. The paper held only four lines:

Life is full of excitement and mystery

I wanted you to know both

Happy exploring

-Grandfather