Hannah's Diary

Hannah's Diary

The Great struggle with life is finding the purpose in it all. It is truly an ironic existence to have to wait to fulfil our purpose and a tragedy never to get that chance. Luckily, reader, what I will share is a story of how I was fortunate to find mine.

You may ask how would it be possible, for me, to understand these complex sentiments ? They were gifted to me by a little girl. Her beautiful shinning face stared down at my pages day after day for many years and she layed upon these pages the gift of life and purpose. Every aspect of her life was shared with me in deep confidence and in that act she gave me a soul. My soul is as complex as hers: it contains great happiness and sorrow, intense pain and hope. My pages are filled with tiny imprints of her heart and soul and for that I am both grateful and content.

The first memories I have, are vague and odd sensations. Loud equipment, pulling, cutting, binding until I reached my final form. I was also given a shield with which to protect my valuable contents from the world. I remember feeling trapped and desiring to stretch my pages in the free air.

Then, there is the more descript memory of a blurry figure. A middle-aged man reached his warm hand up and selected me from the pack, only to place me on a shelf in isolation. I can’t remember how long I sat there waiting, or for what purpose I had been moved, but when he returned to me he covered me tightly in brightly coloured paper.

Suddenly I woke to the delightful face I would later know as Hannah, and in that moment I was given life and purpose. I was a gift for her 7th birthday, and the excitement and glee on her soft face as she flipped through my crisp pages convinced me that I would always be hers. She rolled her thumbs over my corners, lifting me up to smell the new pressed leather. She rubbed my thick pages between her fingers with approval: I was to be her beloved diary.

Hannah’s father had one more surprise for her that day: she was to help him pick a very special set of numbers. He asked her to accompany him to the corner store and when they arrived he crouched down beside her and asked her to reach her heart up into the stars and chose a set of 7 numbers. She immediately chose her own birthday and age, then paused to think what other numbers had significance for her. She next added the day her mother had left them to take her place among the immortal souls in the sky, to watch over them both until they all met again. She chose the rest arbitrarily. Some she liked the way the font made them look fancy. SOME she chose and retracted for others she felt were calling to her. She chose her parents anniversary and settled on her favourite number. She returned the little slip of paper to her father, and asked him to choose the very last one. He looked over the numbers, drawing a sudden deep breath. Looking down at his brilliant daughter, already beyond her years and seeing her anew with watery fresh tear filled eyes. He placed his hand gently on her cheek. “It’s a bit warm for this scarf, don’t you think?” he asked.

“It was mom’s. She made it, remember?”

He smiled at her and rose to hand the ticket to the cashier. He looked really happy about the purchase so Hannah feigned excitement about it too. She didn’t understand but relished the adventure of the risk. She also loved every minute she spent with her father. She told me so when she placed the ticket between my pages for safe-keeping.

She discovered that her father buys these tickets every week and never wins anything. That he has been buying them for years. That night as we lay together in her small bed, she made a wish on the margin on my 3rd page that her dad would win all the money he wanted. The little wish was written with a deliberate hand and given extra flourish. Then she closed my cover gently, and placed me under her pillow for the night. As she did, she told me that wishes come true if you sleep with one under your pillow.

The next morning, Hannah asked her father if they could count down the days until the numbers were drawn. Each morning for the next week, they marked the days off on the calendar. On the day of the draw, he brought her with him to the same store from where they had purchased the ticket. They checked the numbers against the printout hanging next to the cashiers cluttered counter.

They had 3 numbers on their ticket that matched. Hannah’s father looked down at her and smiled; they had won $50. He was glad and asked Hannah to pick any treat in the store her heart desired. She chose a modestly sized chocolate bar which she saved until after dinner. The day had been an exciting one, and in the evening, she told me all about it.

The next morning Hannah’s father showed her the front-page of the newspaper: someone they knew had won $200,000 on that draw. The winner was an elderly man who lived around the corner. He was a quiet and solitary man who had very few connections in town. “Now everyone will want to be his friend!” Hannah’s father said with disgust. The man’s name was Albert and Hannah and her father had spent much time helping him with whatever they could do. From morning strolls around the neighborhood, to simply spending an evening chatting over a game of chess and even a few days each fall cleaning the leaves in his enormous yard. Today though, they drove past his house on their way out and found it surrounded by news vans with cameras out and spectators.

“Dad, is Albert ok?” Hannah asked in a worried tone.

“I hope so,” he replied with concern, “I’ll call him when I get to work.”

Hannah was worried all day about their neighbour Albert. She wrote down a few reminders in me to ask her father as soon as she saw him if he had heard from him at all.

Hannah’s father picked her up after school and immediately started telling her what Albert said, without even waiting for her to ask. He wanted Hannah and her father to come over that night for dinner, and help him give the money away. On the drive home, Hannah started a list of the things she thought he should spend it on. All the ideas were for the community. It included playground equipment, sports facilities, amusement parks and even a zoo.

“Welcome friends!” Albert greeted them more warmly than usual. “I hope you’re hungry, I ordered take-away!”

Hannah and her father had a relaxing evening with Albert. He always treated them to a nice dinner and a few games of chess; Hannah was quickly becoming as skilled as Ablert and her father, when they helped him with his larger chores. Hannah showed Albert their ticket and told him how they had won $50 and about the chocolate bar she bought for desert that night.

Albert laughed. He loved her enthusiasm. He asked her what she thought he should do with the money he had won.

“Well, I’ve made a list of things our town needs.” Hannah showed Albert the list she had scribbled down.

"Oh this, now this is a very thoughtful list sweet Hannah." Said Albert with a wry smile, "You forgot someone though."

Hannah tilted her head to the side and peered at the list she had written as if the answer would jump out at her from my pages.

"It's You, Hannah ! Your father has told me that you have big plans for your future. I would like to also help you, if that's okay ?"

Hannah looked up with sheer surprise on her face to the mirrored expression of her father, " Oh no Albert, that's far to gracious. You just won all this money and want to just give it all away ?!"

"Oh no James, I'm sorry. The opportunity to help others in the way I know can is a far richer reward."

Hannah and her father met eyes again, faces both beaming back the same big smile. He gave her a nod and a shrug and said "This is all I've ever wanted." That was more than enough for both Hannah and Albert.

"It's settled then." That wry smile creeping back on Albert's face. "Hannah ? James ? Would you both indulge an Old Man in spending this money ?!"

It is in moments like this I gained my identity: the sharing of little life events on my pages with gentle pen-strokes gave me my story. I was a little black notebook. I am now and forever Hannah's Diary.