Mom’s Stack of Little Black Moleskine Books

Mom’s stack of little black Moleskine books had been packed in that dang box ever since she’d passed away. I could hardly bear to look at them, though I knew at some point I’d have to. I was curious, for sure, but afraid of what I might find written there, and just break down and cry. My grief was too much to bear.

She’d been pretty prolific looking at that stack, and I remember her saying that only Moleskine would do for her thoughts and scribbles. I could tell they were quality small black books and I knew she really valued them. She’d write and draw in their pages and tuck them away as they were special to her and I knew they must contain special things she’d jotted down. I couldn’t bear the thought of even thinking about looking at them for quite some time as my grief would overtake me just thinking about it.

These were quite handsome notebooks I thought as I looked in the box. They were very stylish black leather books with a strap around them to hold the contents safe inside. They were all I had left of her really. I picked one up and immediately sat it back down in its place atop the others. No… my grief still too fresh to chance it. I just couldn’t let myself break down again. I felt if I did, then I might never recover. And I already felt I was drowning in my sorrow.

I picked the box up and put it back on the closet shelf. I’d wait a bit to look at them again. I'd give myself a little more time to quit reeling from the pain. I just stood there looking at the box on that shelf and realized I’d been just standing there in a daze. How long was I just standing there? How long ‘til I could brave opening up to read the pages neatly held inside each small stylish black book? Why was I so afraid?

I took a step back and thought I’d give it a couple more days. Time to make dinner anyway and I’d already waited a few months, what’s another couple of days. I had to prepare myself for what I might find written there. Maybe I’d just glance inside each one to get a gist of things. Hmmm, that couldn’t hurt, would it?

I wrangled up some dinner and sat in front of the TV to see what was on the news. Then turned the TV off as I knew I wasn’t the only one grieving. Many people were losing loved ones to this damn plague pandemic that was overwhelming the whole world. Who was I to think my grief was special? What the hell was happening? I just shook my head and found myself muttering aloud, “I don’t know what to do”. Then it came to me… What would my mother do?

I got out of the fricking chair and headed back for that box of little black books. I’d been feeling sorry for myself and feeling lost in sorrow anyway. Might as well let myself grieve.

I pulled the cardboard box down and sat on the bed. I reached in and pulled the stack out. Set them there beside me. There were nine of them. I thought out loud “wow, that’s my favorite number. That’s amazing. Like a sign or something.” I picked the first one up.

I could feel how nice the leather was and understood why my mother really liked these. The rounded corners and elastic closure of the books were superbly crafted and made to last. I could feel my mother as I held that little black book in my hands. She was elegant too.

My eyes welled with tears. I took a deep breath or two and shook all over as I turned the cover and took the plunge. The ivory pages jumped out at me. I closed my eyes and just let myself breathe.

When I opened my eyes again, I was surprised. She had doodled and drawn and written little poems and sayings. Things I remembered her telling me. Like, “Red sky at night, Sailors delight. Red Sky in Morning, Sailors take warning.” “When you hear crickets chirping, count the number of cricket chirps you hear in 14 seconds and add 40 to the total and you will have an accurate estimate of the outdoor temperature in degrees.” That’s how I knew the weather every day. I cried and I laughed. All the things she taught me she had written in there. She had written these for me.

I poured through book after book. Laughing and crying. And then I came to the last one. Whew… I was a roll of emotion. I didn’t want it to end, but I knew I had to see what that last one contained. I could see it was getting light out again. I’d been up all night.

I took a big deep breath, picked that last little black book up, and held it to my heart. I thanked my mother out loud that she had left these for me, and then I slowly opened it up.

This Moleskine book was a little different than the others. Almost like she knew I needed to know some things. She wrote more about “Keep a white light around you” and how life didn’t always go as we planned. She had tucked little things that I had given her between the pages. Little cartoons I’d drawn. Pictures I’d taken for her of me as she always loved getting pictures. I was astounded by the notes she had written.

What astounded me more, were the very last few pages and what was tucked at the end of that sweet little black book.

She told me how much she loved me and how proud she was of me. She wrote that she had done the best she could for me and hoped I’d be alright when it was time for her to go. She tucked an envelope at the end that had a key and all the information that I needed to retrieve the savings she’d put into a box at the local Umpqua Bank that she started in 1997. She even put a note that said that was the first year she got a little black book from Moleskine and she was so happy to have been able to put a little bit away every year. She figured by the time I would be reading this, there would be at least $20,000 dollars there. She hoped it would help me.

I sat and cried, and cried and cried. The damn pandemic had been hard for everyone and business had been really hurt. I had just been worrying and thinking how I wished I had twenty thousand dollars as I’d invest it in the business to add a line of products that would help others. What a miracle that was. What a miracle that stack of nine little books was. Yeah, the money was nice, but the release of emotions gave me hope.

I left the books on the bed. Took a shower, ate some breakfast, then headed out the door to the bank.

With a sudden jerk, I woke from my dream and realized I’d better start writing this down and submit it because I'm going to be the winner of the $20,000 Challenge on Vocal. I laughed at myself, grabbed my own Moleskine little black book, and started writing…