Forever Yours

Reaching into the seat pocket in front of me, I expected to find the usual airline magazine, emergency sick bag or in-flight menu. Instead, I found a small plain black notebook. It was simple, inconspicuous, almost boring in design. As I opened the book to try and learn who owned it, I saw pages and pages of love letters, which to a hopeless romantic like myself is anything but boring. I suppose that's the beauty of such a book, the fact that for each owner, it can be a vessel for many different forms of art, literature or release. They can choose to share it with the world or keep it entirely to themselves in a discreet little black book.

I looked through the first few pages hoping to find the owner's name, but nothing jumped out. It appeared that nearly every page was a letter from someone named John to his 'Dear Eliza.' He spoke of how he would miss her while he was away from her. How while he travelled, he longed to hold her hand, taste her cooking and make her smile. There were notes about his day, which usually seemed to revolve around work, but mostly he wrote about her. Telling her how much he loved her and how she wasn't alone despite him not being at her side. The date on the first letter said February 1st, 1971.

My dear Eliza,

These past 34 days since our wedding have been the best of my life. I don't know that I can adequately express how proud I am to be your husband. It’s a real joy to wake up next to you each morning and to laugh with you as we go about our days. I continue to learn more and more about you, like how you can't help but sing along to Carole King whenever she comes on the radio. Each new development only makes me love you more. As I prepare to leave for the first time since our wedding, I thought I would begin a new tradition. Anytime I need to leave, before I go, I will leave you a new note in this book. A reminder of the ways and whys in which I love you. I already look forward to my return into your embrace.

Forever yours and forever loving you, John.

I was immediately enveloped with his loving words, but I hesitated to continue reading. It was so personal. I put the book down for a maybe a moment before my eyes were once again seeing the pages. I just had to learn more about John and Eliza and maybe I would find her contact information or last name on one of these pages, right?

The letters ranged from 1971 to just a couple of years ago. Some notes only days apart, while others were months. He wrote about their life as newlyweds, expecting parents, parents, and now grandparents. He mentioned the joys of retirement, his new love for Golf and his never faltering desire for her. He was describing her as both his best friend and wife. I felt like I was reading the pages of a romance novel. What a beautiful reminder to know that love like this exists in the world.

I'm not a stranger to love; I myself am a newlywed to my best friend, Nick. Although not perfect, he is my perfect man. Kind, funny, hardworking and if that wasn't enough, ridiculously handsome. I can't wait to tell him about this when we land. I'd only been away two nights for a business trip, but I missed him, now even more.

As the plane touched the ground, I turned to the last note and noticed the date. October 29th, 2018. There were tear stains on the page. This obvious display of emotion fueled my curiosity, so I allowed myself to read just one more entry:

My Dear Eliza,

As you know, I can't write anymore, so our wonderful son, Jackson, has agreed to take my pen so I can write you one last letter. My time on earth is ending, which, much to my protest means my time by your send will soon be ending. I want to thank you for every moment of joy, love and laughter. You and our children and now their children have ensured that I had a remarkable life. Though I will no longer be beside you, I will always, always be with you. Until we meet again, my dear.

Forever yours and forever loving you, John.

Tears welled up as I read these words, specifically the last line. He signed every letter with the beautiful notion of forever. Knowing that this was his last was so tragically beautiful.

Before I could lose myself in emotion, the seatbelt sign turned off, and my fellow passengers began to stand and retrieve their luggage. As eager as I was to get home to Nick, I stayed behind in hopes of speaking to a flight attendant. I needed to find who sat here before me. I needed to return what was likely one of their prized processions. I know if I were Eliza, this notebook would be mine.

"Excuse me," I said as I approached three flight attendants, saying goodbye at the door. "I found this in my seat pocket. Who can I speak with to help me return it to the passenger who sat there before me?"

"I doubt we would be able to provide any passenger information, but if you stop at our airline counter as you exit the terminal, they can confirm that." Said one of the flight attendants who happened to have the most perfect bun I'd ever seen in someone's hair.

I thanked them and headed towards the desk. The flight attendant had been correct about them not being willing to provide any details, but luckily someone had called to report the notebook as lost and asked the airline to keep an eye out.

"An elderly lady called just a few hours ago about this. She'll be thrilled. She seemed rather distraught on the phone talking about it." The counter agent said with a charming southern accent.

"I can't say I blame her." Not wanting to confirm that I had read every page of someone's personal love letters, I simply implied that I scanned the pages to seek her name. "The notes seemed personal," I said subtly.

"I've got all her information and the request to mail it to her so you can leave it right here with me, Hun."

I was reluctant to hand it over, not because I wanted to keep it, but because I would have preferred to hand it over in person. Selfishly I wanted an excuse to meet Eliza but also to ensure its safe return.

"Would you happen to have a pen I could use quickly?"

The counter agent handed one to me, and I stepped to the side of the desk. I wanted to insert myself into the story somehow, almost to send Eliza one more letter.

There were only a couple of pages left right at the back of the book. I found one and added a simple note.

Dear Eliza,

I confess that I found and read through your notebook. I opened it to find the owner, but instead, I found pages and pages of love. I apologize if I overstepped by reading and now writing in your book. I want you to know that as a newly married woman, I aspire to share a love story like yours and John's. I hope to be so lucky to love, respect and have my husband by my side in fifty years. Thank you for unintentionally sharing your story with me. It is beautiful. I feel so lucky to have met you through these pages and overjoyed that I can help return the book to you. Sending you good health and continued love.

Your new friend, Sarah.

Two weeks later, I stopped to grab the mail before walking through our front door after work. I expected to see a couple of flyers or bills, but instead, there was a large, padded envelope addressed to me. I greeted my husband as I entered the kitchen and put the rest of the mail down on the island.

"Hi Honey, good day?" I asked. Despite having been the one to ask the question, I was only half paying attention to him because my mind was focused on the envelope. In the top left corner, I read the sender's name, Eliza Brown. Excitement flooded through my body, and my hands ripped open the envelope at record speed. Inside was a crisp, new, perfectly inconspicuous black Moleskin notebook and a card.

To my new friend Sarah,

Words can't express my gratitude for you taking the time to help return my book and even more so for leaving your note. My husband, John and I were together for five decades. Anytime he went away for business or leisure with his friends, he wrote me a letter in this notebook. He passed in 2018, as you probably gathered from his last entry, and it's since become the most important thing in my life besides my family, of course. I now take it with me everywhere I go to remember that even still, I am not alone, and I remained loved.

I've gifted you your own book so that you and your husband may find ways to remind each other of this throughout the years.

Ps. Your kindness has no price tag but here is a small token of my gratitude. As my grandson says, no takebacks.

Forever in your debt, your dear friend Eliza.

I felt such delight at the notion that she took the time not only to write me back but to gesture towards a book for Nick and me to share our own love story.

I ran my fingers over the brand-new notebook and noticed a hump near the spine as though something was inside. As I cracked it open for the first time a cheque fell out.

"What's that?" my husband Nick asked as he hugged me from behind.

Reaching for the cheque I saw it written out to me for $20,000.00.

"I… umm…" I mumbled. I was so overwhelmed that words weren't coming out.

"Wait, is this from the same lady who you returned the book to?"

"Yea..." I said slowly as my mouth finally caught up to my brain. "I have no idea how she got my address, but look," I said, showing him the cheque. Which simply said, for your kindness, in the memo line.

I waited as my husband now went through the same rollercoaster of emotions, confusion and then excitement.

"And read this wonderful card." I insisted, forcing it into his hand beside mine.

"I guess good karma does exist," he said, kissing me on the cheek. "And now I have no excuses but to remind you of how much I love you… I'll start right now." Spinning me around to face him, he said, "I love you, my dear Sarah," poking respectful fun at the formalness of the original letters I told him about.

This moment felt incredibly cheesy but also very special. A moment to be documented and remembered. Maybe for our future selves, or for our children or even for a stranger who finds our notebook one day. The world needs more kindness and love. I think it's essential we take the time to document it, share it and express it, no matter how cheesy.

"I am forever yours," I whispered as I leaned in to kiss him. Our future has yet to be written, but I look forward to documenting the most memorable and minute moments.