Nana's notebook

The air was crisp, the leaves on the trees had begun to turn brown, and the sky was leaden. It was a gloomy Saturday afternoon. Just an ordinary Saturday afternoon that completely transformed Olivia's life.

When she arrived at Nana's house, she felt oddly brittle and her breathing was accelerated. She hadn't been there in what felt like an eternity. Olivia perfectly remembered how thrilled she was to come here as a child, how she had trouble sleeping the night before because of the immense anticipation.

How things have turned.

But after a dragging thirty minutes of dithering, she finally gathered the courage to enter the house. Nothing had changed. The floors still creaked when she walked into the living room, there was Nana's favourite peppermint candy on the kitchen counter, and the white picture frame in the entry hall was still crooked. As Olivia ran her fingers through the wall, she realized that it felt different though. It smelled empty and it seemed darker, lonely. Everything was quieter; there was no noise from the coffee machine, no jazz music playing in the background, no dogs running around in the yard.

Memories hastened to her head, and she could picture Nana's face as if she had seen her yesterday. Silky, white hair; kind, green eyes; genuine smile; elegant dress; and, of course, the notebook in her hand.

Nana owned a little black notebook. She always carried it with her, it was her silent and faithful companion. She constantly wrote in it. No matter the time of day, the people she was with, or her mood; she spent hours on end turning blank pages into fascinating stories. She would stop everything she was doing and order everyone to quiet down as she decisively grabbed a pen and began to write. Like water falling from a waterfall, words tumbled out of her mind in a tarn of ink and lined paper.

When Olivia was younger she dreamt of one day getting to read Nana's tales. Of finally devouring her chaotic thoughts scattered all over the thin pages of her notebook.

The forbidden notebook.

Olivia tirelessly begged Nana to reveal to her what she was writing, but she never did. Nobody was allowed near that notebook, near her words. It was her precious little secret.

"A writer's notebook is a writer's mind. You cannot read people's minds, so peaking at my notebook would be unfair." - Nana always said.

But Olivia never understood why her words were so inestimable, why her mind was so prized. She always thought that she didn't let her read her stories because they weren't polished; she thought it was because of her perfectionist nature. Nothing was ever ready nor good enough for Nana. Nonetheless, Olivia always admired her courage and dedication to the art.

She made her way up the stairs. The railing was cold and chills came down her spine. Her legs hesitated with every step she took but her intention was firm. As she looked up, thousands of stories flooded her head. Nana was a great storyteller, and ever since Olivia was a little kid, she couldn't help but passionately tell her about Nana's adventures and mishaps as they made their way up to the bedroom.

As Olivia entered the room, her body tensed up and her breathing got faster. It had been three months. Three months, one week, and two days since she was last here. She used to spend days in this place; looking through the window, imaging love stories and unsolved mysteries. She sat on the corner of her bed while Nana intensely played the piano and hummed made up songs and melodies. They devoured chocolate chip cookies while they mused about what it would be like to open their own bookshop and write for a living.

What a dream.

Olivia got her first little black notebook in Nana's room. It was just like hers. Two-hundred and seventy-nine empty pages, ready to be turned into an ocean of words and emotions. She cherished every single one of the notebooks Nana gifted her. It was like a new chance to create something beautiful, to live a new life.

Olivia has always loved writing. Maybe because it's the easiest way for her to organize her thoughts and express how she feels, or maybe because Nana showed her the power of words from a young age. To her, writing is like riding on a rollercoaster, completely uninhibited. Writing feels free and untethered. It feels dangerous but safe all at once.

She worked her gaze down the room and examined it carefully, but she didn't truly know what she was searching for. Maybe she was looking for answers; for closure. Or maybe she was looking for nothing and she just needed to feel close to Nana again. After a quick look around, an old empty shelf caught her eye. It was full of dust, and in the left corner, there was a little black notebook. Nothing else, nothing more. It looked exactly like one of the notebooks Nana used to write in. The fact that Olivia was about to finally look through one of her stories instilled in her brain. She was so excited.

She grabbed the notebook and cleaned the dust off of it. She immediately knew that she wanted to sit on the edge of the bed like she always did. As she sat down, a beam of light reached her face. It was warm and peaceful, just like Nana. When she opened the notebook it was blank. There wasn't a drop of ink.

"Why?" - Olivia mumbled in disbelief.

But as that last word fled her mouth, something slipped out of the little book: $20.000. She was left speechless. She had so many questions and not one answer. Olivia quickly flipped the pages, searching for something that could explain what had just happened. And there it was, fifteen words, two sentences;

Remember, a writer's notebook is a writer's mind. Never doubt the power of your words.

Love, Nana.

As Olivia finished reading that note, tears began falling down her cheeks. It was at that moment that she realized why Nana never let her read her tales. She finally understood why her words were so precious. Hope took over every inch of her body, and she started to shake. She could not believe that she would finally be able to open that bookstore, that she was going to live among books and made-up worlds. She was so happy.

And just like old times, she sat there, in the corner of Nana's bed, gazing out the window and dreaming about all the things that she was going to do with her newfound treasure.