It's All In My Little Black Book

I bought a new diary. It’s a little black book. This is where I keep my very thoughts for that day at that very moment. My every dream that I have ever dreamed and my dreams to come. My life story all rolled into one little black book.

It’s made of a softened black leather, that has the feel of velvety softness to it when you run your fingers over it. The pages inside are softened in an off white color, almost looks and feels like an old piece of paper would feel like if you have ever felt an antique type of paper. It’s a little thicker and has a stiffness to it but soft to the touch. The books bound together with a sort of twine rope. The twine connects each soft white page together which creates an X design on the outside binding of the book that runs along the back of the outside binding. There are two large X’s made of twine designed on the outside binder of my little black book, while on the inside you can only see two pieces of the twine that run straight down the middle as you turn each page. On the front of my little black book is an image of a wolf that has been pressed into the fine leather, howling at the moon. The book is held shut with a latch that is made of a yellow colored metal. It appears tarnished. and that looks like a tooth which pushes through a metal hole on the books cover.

Within these pages are where I lay my thoughts and dreams. For many years I have kept diaries, but none like this one. This one special little black book is where my life truly begins and the old bad times lay behind. This is where my life changes and all for the better.

My dad passed away recently and this really doesn’t affect me. He wasn’t a very loving man. He was not a happy man. I don’t think he really knew what love was. He was a mean spirited person who liked to talk about people and not in a nice way. I would watch my dad talk really nice to people and I could just see that he was acting. My dad would be nice in front of the people and turn around and talk so very badly about them. I don't remember him ever saying anything nice about anybody unless they were giving him something that my dad wanted. But then he would just turn around and end up being mean to them once he got what he wanted.

My father came from a poor family where they lived in the hill country. My mom and dad are somehow related. People that live in this part of the country are some what of a cult or clannish. Family is blood, unless you strike against one...then you are shunned from all. Country folk up there aren't too keen on outsiders. Still today when you step into that town, right away you can feel the oddness in the air there.

My dad liked to play cruel jokes on me. He would say to me, "here hold this spark plug while I pull the rope to see if it's working" I didn't know what he was talking about. I was a little girl! I trusted him and I did what he asked of me. I will never forget the jolt of electricity I felt go through my arm..I felt all of the muscles in my arm just seem to tighten up and it hurt so bad. I think I was only 5, maybe 6 years old.

Today I am ready to write my days thoughts into my little black book and as I write, I remember these memories of my dad.

“Today I received a check in my name for $20,000.00! I am now $20,000.00 richer! Thanks to my dad's death I am $20,000 richer. It’s almost like a final goodbye/farewell to thee. Thank you dad for this that has been bestowed upon me. I plan to use this to make my home a warmer and more comfortable home for me and my family to live in. I can finally get my woodstove to keep us warmer in those long winter months.”

"The Fucking Monster is Dead". This may not seem much to anyone else, but to me it means that I will never have to look at that man and feel shame ever again. When my dad died, it was a break in my past. At this point in my life, I realize that this whole event gradually turned me in a direction that left me feeling free. I am home."

The only thing that I thought I was doing in life was simply looking for answers and everybody turned their backs on me. I was shunned for asking too many questions. I was trying to grasp what ever understanding I could out of this life that I was birthed into. I was thrown into the life of a clan and had to fight my way through my whole life feeling shame for not being more like them.

Thanks to this Little Black Book that I bought, it is about to become one of my most precious reminders of the day I was free to be me. Thank you dear Lord for bestowing this upon me.