Photography by Lori K. Tate
Before you grab your tissues thinking about the movie, this is not a post about The Notebook starring the super hot Ryan Gosling, the regal Gena Rowlands (love her hair in this film) and the late James Garner (I’ve loved him since The Rockford Files and adore Barbarians at the Gate, and I told him so when I ran into him at the Charlotte airport years ago.) Again, this post is not about the movie. Nope, this post is about actual notebooks.
People have various purchasing weaknesses. For my husband, it’s Cheez-Its and LPs. For my daughter and son, it’s unicorns and Matchbox cars, respectively. For me, it’s purses, shoes and, you guessed it, notebooks.
Look throughout my home and you will find all kinds of journals. Some have been written in and some not, but each one offers promise. I look at notebooks/journals the same way as I view the change of seasons — they’re mini New Year’s Eves. And right now I need all the fresh starts I can find.
Amid losing my mother, supporting my dad, revamping my career and realizing that The Tots have one-way tickets for the “tween train,” I am completely unmoored. For a normally decisive person, any decision for me these days is agony (just ask the sweet soul who cut my hair this morning at Great Clips). Acting on a decision once it’s decided is even more impossible, so I grabbed a notebook from my stash and began anew this week.
The satisfaction I get from writing my name and contact information in the front of a new notebook with a favorite pen (I fluctuate from Sharpie no-bleeds to Profiles) is right up there with getting to the bottom of the laundry basket or buying a fresh sheet of stamps. As I carefully print my name, I fill with excitement about what will become of my notebook. I’m using this particular one for daily to-do lists and blog ideas, so it will help me remember to send in money for my children’s (I mean tween’s) recorders, as well as remind me to write an entry about my obsession with Harris Teeter’s Fuel Points program.
The paper in my new notebook is nice and cushiony, and the cover is bright pink and orange (I can’t deal with dull colors in any facet of my life.) I look forward to writing in it every morning, and sometimes I even write in it at night if I’m tapped into my inner Martha Stewart (rare).
It’s a little thing, but if my 47 trips around the sun have taught me anything, it’s that little things carry just as much weight as their large counterparts. Sometimes a bad day can be revoked by a good parking space. Sometimes a stranger’s smile at the dry cleaners can make you realize that people aren’t so awful after all. Sometimes a warm blanket can make you feel like everything will be okay when things are so not okay. And sometimes a new notebook can give you the confidence you need to believe that things will get better.
That said, I will continue to write down everything I need to do each day, whether it’s picking up apples at the Teeter (points!), finding a gift for a kid’s birthday party or scheduling dinner with my dad, because each piece helps me build a future, and that’s no small thing.