THE LITTLE BLACK BOOK

She ran her hand through her long hair. Her hair had once been her crowning glory. Now, the once luxurious locks, had lost some of the walnut shine, the grey mixed with white caused the illusion of a lighter color. She kept her hair long almost to her waist; but instead of letting it run free across her shoulders, she usually either pulled it back in a braid or a ponytail. Her eyes betrayed her age. She now required glasses to read and even then, a bright light was needed.

She was prone to what her grandmother would have called “wool gathering”. She spent more minutes than she cared to admit, remembering the past. Minutes wishing, she were able to do the things she used to be able to do, took up much of that time. Now age and poor choices had taken many of her physical abilities away. A cane was her constant companion. Pain was frequent now and the medications suggested to help were just too expensive.

She limped forward hoping to make it into the garage with as little pain as possible. She was thankful for the attached garage, so she did not have to chance the walk through the ice and snow. She had contracted for a company to plow the drive, but she had no one to shovel the snow from the front door. So that task was up to her. And today, was not a day for physical labor. The pain from her joints came and went but she could do little to control it.

As she entered the garage, she was faced with the stack of boxes the movers had left in a corner. All her belongings from her previous home. The gracious, but too expensive home. She had lived there so long she could hardly imagine living anywhere else. First her husband left her for parts unknown and then she found he had taken all their money with him. She thought she could manage that, and she did for a few years. But when her physical drawbacks made it impossible to keep working, she had been forced to retire on a small pension. That pension did not keep up with her expenses in that lovely home. So, she packed up things she could not bear to part with, sold the rest and moved to her old hunting cabin. It was not so remote that she could not live there, but it was definitely not in the high rent district .

She spent as little as possible fixing it up, but a few things just had to happen. There was running water and electricity as well as a telephone, but she had to find a heater. Propane was her choice since the previous heat was wood and she could not imagine having to get up on a cold morning to put wood in the stove. The roof had some weak spots and she hoped it would last a few more years. There were other issues, the well had a pump that was on its last legs. The plumbing company had advised her that the next repair would probably be the last. The water heater also needed to be replaced so most of her showers were now tepid. But for now, her little cabin was warm and reasonably accessible. Plus, it was paid for and that was really important. Money was such a concern now.

She was headed for the bank now. A call last evening had summoned her to discuss “an important matter”. She was out of bed early, dressed, and ready to go before the bank was open. As she drove slowly on the icy road, thoughts crowded into her mind. She chewed the inside of her lip, while worried thoughts vied for space in her mind. The sun sparkling on the snow was lovely but she took no notice.

Hours later she arrived home. The words still echoing in her head. Mortgaged, her little hide away, and at that a balloon payment. Another little thing her husband had forgotten to mention. A 10-year balloon mortgage due next month. Sure, it wasn’t much, $20,000. But it might have just as well been $100,000. She was living on so little and there was no extra. What would she do? Where could she go. She was too old to start over again. Tears streaked down her wrinkled cheeks and she angrily wiped them away. She had been in worse spots in her life and she could take care of this.

She struggled out of the car leaning heavily on her cane. Her old but so far trusty car, creaked in protest to the cold, as she swung the door closed. She looked around the garage. The pile of boxes in the corner caught her eye. Maybe there was something in those boxes she could sell. She couldn’t imagine what was in there that would be worth $2,000 much less $20,000. But every little bit would help. Besides the distraction of finally going through those boxes would give her mind a few moments rest.

Several hours later she was opening yet another box, when she discovered a box of books and records from years ago. As she slowly opened the box, dust filled the air. The dust rising through the air sparkled in the sunlight. She remembered her grandmother saying, “That is fairy dust. Quick make a wish before it settles.” “What the heck, she thought. It can’t hurt.” So, she wished for a solution in this box. And then she silently chuckled at her own childishness.

She dug down in the box. Poetry, science fiction, and several old textbooks came up in the first layer. Well, that was not what she was hoping for. Well, in for a dollar in for a dime, so she started on the next layer. Wait what was that. A black notebook. Yes, she remembered that book. It was a gift from a friend when she got a big promotion at work. A beautiful book the leather felt soft and supple under her fingers. It still had that leather smell. A gold bookmarking ribbon hung from the top. She opened the book. Under the “in case of loss notice” There was a handwritten note from her friend. “To one of the strongest women I know. I will always admire you.” Fond memories of that day filled her mind for a moment. Her friend, now living across the country, had been so important in her life. But things had changed and now they spoke on holidays and a few other times of the year; but the closeness was just not there.

The ivory pages of the book with her handwriting contained thoughts, dates and even addresses. She leafed through some of the pages letting her mind wander over the events reflected in the book. Thoughts such as “Why are I so worried about getting everything perfect all the time? There are some things that do not require perfection”; reminded her of how hard she worked and how important success seemed at the time.

Then an entry caught her eye. “Stock purchase offered to employees. Managers will be given stock as a bonus for goals. Program to start next quarter.” She tried to remember if she had kept this stock. Yes, she remembered. She had received some stock as a bonus and even bought some more. “I wonder if I still own this.”

As she was wondering about the stock she dug down further in the box. What is that plastic envelope? She slid it out of the box. Holding her breath, she pulled the papers out. There it was stock certificates. There were quite a few. She sat counting them, 124 shares of Kimberly Clarke. They must be worth something. They were in her name. Her husband couldn’t have cashed them in even if he had known they were there.

She gathered up the mess she had created searching in the boxes and headed into the house. She called the bank to ask about the stock. The bank referred her to a stockbroker. Soon she was sitting at the table in the kitchen sobbing into her hands. Each share had doubled since she bought it. And each share was worth $1,000. 248 shares. She could take care of all her money concerns and still put some away for the future.

The leaky roof, the water pump that was about to quit working, the water heater that only provided tepid water, the chores around the property that needed repairs that she could no longer complete without help, the medications that she had been avoiding because she couldn’t afford them. The thoughts flooded her mind. She bent her head in prayer. Thank you she whispered.