jackpot.

notebook jackpot.

During my first pregnancy, my husband and I renovated my ‘whatever’ room. I had to clear out before my son’s arrival. And we had to deal with those hideous not-really-peach-but-not-really-pink walls we had never gotten around to painting. They were awful and definitely not okay for our son’s room. When we couldn’t accommodate all of the stuff I had stacked up all over the place, I packed up lots of it. I slid the large but manageable plastic bins into the giant cabinets my husband built under the basement stairs.

Our son was born during a snowy January. A couple of years later, two months shy of my son’s 3rd birthday, his little sister was born. Life got busy. And crazy. And I abandoned the bins under the stairs. Years passed… and slowly, I forgot exactly what filled those bins. Until yesterday.

Just a little reorganization. Those were my words. Oh yes. Just a little.

Four hours later… I finally emerged from the basement to cook dinner.

I found so much. So much of my life. Art supplies of nearly every kind. Paper… God, so much gorgeous paper. Photos… mementos. And notebooks. Beautiful, worn-out, full-of-writing notebooks. I found three lovely clear-with-a-blue-lid storage bins filled… with notebooks.

Okay, one of the bins held blank notebooks. (Why do I love paper so? Why do I hoard it?)

The other two notebook bins, though… Oh, my heart raced like it did in the intense moments of anticipation before my first kiss. I felt like I won the lottery… hit the jackpot… reached the top of a mountain. I rediscovered my handwritten words. So many words. I knew the notebooks existed. I did. I remember thinking about them one night a couple of years ago when I couldn’t sleep. But 3 a.m. did not feel like an appropriate time to rummage through the basement. And by morning, the notebooks got lost in my head again. Until yesterday.

My memory tricked me. I remembered maybe four or five notebooks. Wrong. So wonderfully wrong. I found more… many more. And they are filled with everything. FictionDear Diary. Drafts of letters I cannot remember if I ever sent or even to whom I wrote them. Drawings. Boys phone numbers (kind of a lot of those… I had some adventurous, carefree days… and nights. Mostly nights…).

I stacked two bins full of writing beside my bed. I pulled out a few notebooks and laid them on top. I’ve already tripped over those bins twice, but I don’t care. Last night I started reading… and I just couldn’t stop. Some of it made me laugh… and some of it completely amazed me. My God, I had great ideas.

I have decided to take a few of my recent notebooks – those in the crate by the bed that didn’t come from the basement – and put them away somewhere and forget about them for a few years. Because I know I’ll be crazy with excitement and anticipation to read today’s words years from now.

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About what sandra thinks

Sandra is a writer, blogger, poet, artist, emotional disaster. She thinks far too much and sleeps far too little. Sandra lives in the Northeastern U.S. but dreams of an oceanfront home in Hawaii where she could learn to surf. She loves music, brutal honesty, coffee, and the color black. She hates insincerity, beer, whipped cream, and facebook. And she is uncomfortable talking about herself in the third person.
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3 Responses to jackpot.

  1. Grandtrines says:

    Reblogged this on Lost Dudeist Astrology.

    Like

  2. Pingback: why I am here. | what sandra thinks

  3. Pingback: stop. | what sandra thinks

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