Secrets Revealed By The Little Black Book

I remember nothing about my first few years on earth. All Grandma Misty ever told me was that someone murdered my parents when I was a baby. I know that they loved me dearly, and Grandma Misty raised me as her own. She constantly reminded me of how much my parents loved me. We would lay on the floor next to the fireplace, where she told me stories about my mom while we both sipped on some hot cocoa during the winter nights. We didn't know much about my dad but that he was a refugee with no living relatives.

I would ask questions about how my parents met, but more importantly, I wanted to know details about their murder. Grandma Misty often refused to discuss any details. She would say that it was a cold case and then grow silent. Whenever I brought it up, I could see how her eyes welled up with tears, and I decided I wouldn't ask those questions anymore.

When I turned 15 years old, grandma Misty gave me a little black book and informed me that I had a trust fund with 20,000. I would be able to access this fund once I turned 16. That was exciting, but I already had everything I needed. What I wanted was to be able to bring my parents back. Grandma Misty stated that the book was once my mom's. She began journaling the moment that she found out that she was pregnant. I couldn't wait to learn more about my mom and understand her life before birth. I wanted to develop a relationship with the person behind the writing, the one who brought me into this world. Most of the journals were letters written to me. One letter states:

"My dear child. I have no idea if you will be a boy or a girl but, I want you to know that I love you more than anything else. You have no idea how much we prayed for you. I can't wait to meet you. I guess you were craving some of grandma's cinnamon rolls today. I've been eating them for breakfast, lunch and, dinner. Every time I ate, I could feel you kick, and I knew you were happy there. Now listen to me. I am not planning on gaining a bunch of weight, so can you please tone it down with your cravings? How about something healthy like apples or carrots? I do enjoy the cinnamon rolls, too, but shhh, keep that between the two of us; dad doesn't have to know. He is also excited about meeting you soon, my little love bug."

This little black book should give me joy, but it made me sad most time. Why was I robbed of the opportunity to have parents? Grandma Misty loves me dearly. Her love, though, can't replace the love of a mother and father. To better connect with my mom, I began journaling myself using her little black book. I started writing letters to my mom, telling her about my crazy boy stories, about the school, and how I wished that their murder case wasn't cold. I wanted justice even though almost 16 years had passed.

My nightly routine usually ended with reading one of mom's letters and writing journal entries. I fell asleep with the little black book in my hand most of the time.

One morning, I woke up abruptly by grandma Misty yelling. I had overslept again. She was not a fan of me missing the school bus.

"If you miss the bus, you will need to walk to school," she yelled. "You're almost 16 now. It's time that you became more responsible."

Thankfully I caught the bus, and like most days, I began spending most of my time thinking about my parents. The school was almost a blur. I didn't have many friends as I kept to myself. No one understood me anyways.

The more I thought about my parents, the angrier I became. After completing my chores and homework that evening, I got into bed and began my nightly routine. However, this time around, there was something different. There was a journal entry in there that I didn't write. It wasn't there before. The date of entry was February 16th, 1989. It was February 16th, 1989.

It read:

"Hey, Lovebug. I know you have so many questions for your dad and me…."

Wait. What?

I yelled, "Grandma, were you in my room? Are you trying to play tricks on me?"

I don't think Grandma Misty heard me, so I got up immediately and ran downstairs.

"Did you write in my journal today?" I asked

Grandma Misty replied, "No, I did not, and why would you think such a thing?"

"Someone wrote in my journal today, and I didn't write it!" I exclaimed.

We went upstairs, and I picked up the little black book off the floor. I opened it up and said, "See, Grandma," pointing to the written words. "Who wrote that?"

Grandma Misty stared at the page for a few seconds and replied, "I am not sure what you're referring to honey, This page is completely blank."

"Are you sure that you don't see anything in there?"

She said no.

I grew frustrated and told her I wanted to be alone. If she didn't write it, then who did? It just couldn't be my mom. It couldn't be!

Is grandma Misty lying? Why would she lie? Why did she say that she couldn't see anything? Is she playing a game? I know she can be a prankster at times. However, she looked confused.

I held the book in my hands. My hands were shaking. Part of me was confused, and another was still in shock.

I placed the book on the bed and repeatedly told myself that I should open it and read what else was in there. I didn't know what to think. Was my mind playing tricks on me?

I began rereading the entry.

"Hey, Lovebug. I know you have so many questions for your dad and me. Life took us away abruptly. There is so much about your dad and me that you do not understand. In time, you will be able to get some answers…."

"Who is this?….mom?….Who wrote in my little black book?…. Is that you, mom?…..is it?…is it?"

My heart was racing. I pinched myself, for it felt like a dream. Many questions popped into my mind. I was perplexed. What the heck is going on?