PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

There wasn’t a day in my life where I didn’t see my grandmother writing in a notebook. I’m not even certain if she ever bought more than one because it was always the same old notebook. If you are wondering what she wrote on that thing, let me tell you, I don’t even have the slightest idea. When I was a kid, I liked to believe that she was writing the greatest and coolest stories, but when I asked her to read me what was written on that notebook, I always got no for an answer. When I was around the age of 10, I invented a story about what was written on that notebook. I really believed that what was on it involved the story of an old treasure hidden in the backyard that our houses share. This story soon became an obsession. I spent most of my time trying to prove that my wild ideas were true. I told my grandmother what I thought about the contents of her notebook, and she didn’t deny it, she even encouraged me to keep looking. For almost a year and a half, I went every day to her house, which was next to mine, and she gave me a clue which made my eyes fill with joy and wonder. I even asked my parents for a metal detector one Christmas. I never got it, of course, but that didn’t stop me. I just grew up and simply gave up on the idea that a treasure was somewhere hidden in my backyard. My grandmother never stopped writing in that notebook, as far as I can remember she was always sitting in her bed with a pen in her hand and the notebook on her lap, making soft and calm strokes over the paper. She passed away a couple of years ago, a terrible cancer left her weak in her hospital bed, it took away her time, hope, and that characteristic light she had in her eyes. That was the first time I didn’t see her with her notebook. She may be gone but she left her notebook behind. I don’t know if she did it intentionally, so that we could someday read it. That notebook, or collection of notebooks, is one of the couple of things left in what used to be her house. After all these years, I haven’t read it, maybe because I like the idea of believing that there’s an awesome mystery written on that endless notebook, and that keeps her always in my mind.