I brought the old shoe box out to the kitchen table. I cleaned the table off and set up shop. I opened a brand new notebook and laid my favorite silver ballpoint pen next to it. I sat down and slowly started taking pieces of paper out of the box. They were all different sizes, some folded neatly and some crumpled. All had something to say.
I unfolded one piece of paper and opened my notebook and started to copy the words. What would the words become? Where would the words take me? What would the words show me? Would they become a story or a verdict? Guilty as written. Time off for good behavior or a life sentence to be served behind the unwavering bars of regret and sorrow.
I can feel my heart grow heavy, tears fill my eyes. I begin to unfold, read and copy every word, note after note. All my thoughts scribbled down over the years. Whatever else had been lost, these notes were kept safe in a battered old shoe box. I will not stop writing until the box is empty and the notebook is filled.
I feel the muscles in my hand cramping up as I continue to write. Crumpled pieces of paper are strewn around my feet. Finally the shoe box is empty. I pick up all the discarded pieces of paper and return them to the box. I put the box in the trash and put the newly filled notebook safely in my desk drawer.
I have journeyed to forgotten places, remembered beautiful things and felt heartache all over again. I am very tired now. Soon it will be a new year. I will rest and then see what the notebook has in store for me.
Image may be NSFW.
Clik here to view.
Image may be NSFW.Clik here to view.
