The Journal

The final bell rings, and an explosion of students hit the hallway. The excitement of summer is loud in the air. Harold keeps his head down, he just wants to get to his locker for the final time, and out the door. A screaming pack of cheerleaders knock Harold’s book out of his hand as they run past him to greet the rest of their pack. Ironically, if it weren’t for the occasional bump in the hallway, Harold would question his existence altogether. He finally makes it to his locker and out the door. The bookstore is only a couple blocks from the school; he can pick up some new reading material on his way home. Long days in the sun at the beach, fighting off bugs in a tent, putting slimy worms on hooks; Harold can’t see the glamour in any of these activities. Being engrossed in a book, whisking away to unknown worlds, that’s Harold’s pleasure.

The heat came early this summer. By the time Harold reached the bookstore, sweat was dripping off his forehead onto his glasses. Harold wiped his head with his hand, then smeared the sweat across his jeans. He opened the door to the bookstore, and a cool breeze hit his face. The aroma of old cardboard is thick in the air; Harold inhaled long and slow, it’s his favorite smell in the world.

Harold browsed up and down each isle slowly, pausing every couple feet to pick up a book and skim through it. Suddenly, Harold noticed an unusual book, more like a little black notebook. Harold picked up the notebook to examine it. It had a hard cover, an elastic closure, and its own built-in bookmark. Harold carefully slid the elastic band off the cover, and opened the book. It appeared to be a journal.

Harold must have stood there and read ten pages before he knew it. The author of the journal could be Harold in about fifty years. Not unlike Harold, the author felt invisible to world around him; not bullied or pushed around, just invisible. He talked about how someone could be passing out flyers on the street, and would give one to the people walking in front of him, one to the people behind him, and completely ignore his existence. Harold instantly related to this man, and knew he had to buy the journal.

Harold took the journal up to the counter. “How much is this book,” he asked softly, “there is no tag on it.” The store owner looked curiously at the notebook, “Huh,” he said while scratching his head, “I don’t remember ever buying this one.” He flipped the book over and looked at the back; sure enough, there was no sticker. “Well,” he started, “how does five dollars sound?” “Sounds like a deal,” Harold replied.

Harold hurried home with his new found treasure, and couldn’t wait to dive into this unknown man’s world. With every turn of the page, Harold identified more with the author. He talked about how he went all through high school being greatly unnoticed by his classmates. How he made good grades and graduated near the top of his class, but would bet the majority of his teachers wouldn’t remember his name. “After all, who would remember the name James Smith? Such an ordinary name, nothing extraordinary whatsoever,” he wrote.

Mr. Smith landed a job right out of high school, in a mailroom of a big company. The mail was delivered on-time every day, without fail; therefore, Mr. Smith never gave upper management a reason to talk to him. The other employees in the building undoubtedly thought their mail magically appeared on their desk. Mr. Smith would sit alone at a table in the breakroom and eat his lunch every day; that is, until one day when Sandy sat with him.

“Harold, dinner!” his mother yelled up the stairs. Harold was so engrossed in the journal he jumped at the sound of his mother. “I’m not hungry,” he yelled back. “Get down here now,” his mom demanded. Harold reluctantly went downstairs to join his parents for dinner. “It’s not healthy for you to stay in your room all the time,” his mother said as she was fixing his plate. “Tomorrow is the first day of summer, you should be outside, your body needs the Vitamin D,” she continued. “My body is fine, mom,” Harold mumbled. “Well, I don’t want to see you with your nose in a book all summer long,” she added, “I wish you would go out and make some friends.” “Leave the boy alone,” Harold’s father chimed in, “I would rather have him sit here with his nose in a book than out there getting into trouble somewhere.” Harold’s father is a police officer in their small town.

Harold quickly ate his dinner and asked to be excused from the table. “Put your dishes in the sink, and don’t forget to take out the trash,” his mom responded. Harold quickly bagged up the trash and ran it out to the bin in the backyard. He started to run up the stairs, anxious to get back to his book. “Did you put a new bag in the trash can?” his mother asked loudly. Harold rolled his eyes and ran back into the kitchen.

Finally done with his chore, Harold settled back in with Mr. Smith’s journal. Sandy was new at the company, and was looking for a friend. Mr. Smith was startled when Sandy approached him and asked to sit with him. Mr. Smith said in his journal, “I could barely speak, she was so beautiful, and she picked me. I thought she must have some sort of super power to be able to see me when no one else could.”

The next few pages of Mr. Smith’s journal were upbeat and cheerful. He and Sandy spent a lot of time together, and eventually got married. Harold was hopeful he too would be able to find love one day. Mr. Smith talked about how his whole life changed that day, and how he done everything in his power to show Sandy how special she was to him every day. The couple were never able to have children, so each was the center of the other’s world. The two of them dreamed about opening up a bed and breakfast in their small town when they retired, and talked about how Sandy cooked the best biscuits and gravy in the world. However, their world came to a halt one day; Sandy got sick, and passed away shortly after. They had been married for fifteen glorious years, and she was love of Mr. Smith’s life.

After Sandy’s death, Mr. Smith talked about all the looks of pity he received from everyone, and wished only to go back to being invisible to the world again. He was heartbroken and most days didn’t want to leave the house. When the life insurance money arrived, Mr. Smith wrote in his journal, “When I received the check, I just sat on the couch and cried. Here I had the money in my hands to make all our dreams come true, but the only one I wanted to share those dreams with was gone.” Harold felt a tear roll down his cheek. He felt connected to Mr. Smith, even though they had never met.

Harold could tell by the entries in the journal, Mr. Smith fell into a deep depression for many years. Mr. Smith was so saddened by his wife’s passing, he wanted to join her. Mr. Smith’s final entry in his journal was this: “It has been forty years since my dear Sandy left this earth, and I feel my time to be with her is near. To the reader of this journal: if you found my journal at the bookstore, and took the time to read it this far, then you more than likely understand what it means to feel invisible in this world. I would like to help you with that. I know money does not solve all problems, and it can also make others like you for the wrong reasons; however, I don’t know what else to do with it. I was never able to spend the rest of the money I received from Sandy’s life insurance. After her funeral was paid for, I put the rest into a safe deposit box, because I could no longer look at it. I have hidden the key in plain sight, but if it is anything like you and I, people will walk by it every day and not even know it is there. I have left special instructions at the bank; the person to come in with this key and tell them the correct password, can have the contents of the box. If you have read this journal, and truly listened to my story, you will have no problem getting the password correct. The key is hidden in a fake rock in the park. There is a pond in the garden with a small waterfall. The rock is on the right side of the waterfall.”

Harold could not believe the words he was reading. His heart started beating fast and his hands started to shake. He looked at the clock, it was 2:30am, there was no way he could go to the park this time of night; he would have to wait until morning. Harold tossed and turned all night long, wondering if this was just a prank, or if there could actually be a key that leads to money. How much money are we talking? What if someone already found the key? What if some kid threw the rock and didn’t realize what it was? All these questions ran through Harold’s mind all night.

At some point Harold must have dozed off. When Harold woke up he looked at the clock; 8:14am. Harold laid there for a minute before he remembered the journal. He jumped out of bed, got dressed, and ran out of the house. Harold ran all the way to the park. In the middle of the park is a garden area where weddings and parties are held. There is a walkway that winds through the garden, passing statues and pretty flowers. In the northwest corner of the garden is a small koi pond with a little waterfall. There are several rocks surrounding the pond and the waterfall. Harold quickly made his way to the right side of the waterfall and began looking through the rocks. There, hidden under a couple river rocks, was a small rock. Harold picked it up and knew right away it was fake. Harold opened the rock and found the key. His heart skipped a beat. “It is real!” Harold exclaimed to himself.

Harold ran all the way to the bank. He was so out of breath when he got there, he had to sit down for a couple minutes before he was able to speak. Harold showed the teller the key to a safe deposit box, and told her about the instructions he read. The teller looked up the account associated with the box, and asked Harold for the password. “My dear Sandy,” Harold said confidently. The teller told Harold he was correct and led him to the box. “I will leave you alone,” said the teller as she walked out of the room. Harold took a deep breath and opened the box slowly. It was filled with cash. Harold couldn’t believe his eyes. He stared at the money in disbelief. After a few minutes he began taking out the cash and counting it. There was a note from Mr. Smith in the bottom of the box. “If you are reading this note, then you read my journal and found the key. Congratulations! There is $20,000 here. All I ask is that you use the money wisely, find you someone you can love, and love them with all your heart.”