My Little Black Book

It was a gift from my mother on my 11th birthday. She had watched me scribble music lyrics and poetry into worn out notepads for years. I couldn't play an instrument, but I'd hum what I thought the song should sound like while words flowed out through my pencil and onto whatever paper was near. She must have been tired of picking up post-its and bringing them to me. I'm sure that's why she thought to give a young girl this gift.

I felt the package, even shook it a little, listening closely to the sound it might make. A few knocks but nothing more. The curiosity spun in my head as I wondered. ‘She knows I love reading, I'm sure it's just the next book in the trilogy I've been telling her about.’ I pulled at the sticker bow that was set in the corner with a tag that read “Happy Birthday, Shea! Love, Mom.” I threw it un-caringly to the side and began to pull back a piece of the wrapping paper, not worried about keeping it intact. I saw a hint of a dark box. Intrigued, I pulled a little more paper away, trying to hide my anticipation. I couldn't wait anymore, I ripped the rest of the decorative wrapping and flung it behind me. It was a box with an M and 11 perfectly placed squares. I pulled it open and inside it was, in fact, a book. It was soft to the touch as I ran my fingers over it finding an elastic band that held it closed. I brought it to my face to inhale and remembered the scent of my father's bomber jacket that I would wear when I imagined flying planes. The smell, softness, and warmth of the newly touched leather cover brought comfort. On the front, in fine gold, was etched; "Beauty is everlasting when you give of yourself. Do great things and great things will be returned. Make a wish" I flipped it over in my hands to see on the back S.M., my initials, had been seared into the soft skin to give me ownership. I pulled on the black band so that I could run my thumb over the untouched pages. As I did, I felt a quick wisp of wind and my hair flew away from my face and I grinned. Inside, between the many pages, my mother had placed a flower and allowed it to dry. Old but still beautiful. She later explained that like the flower, I too can remain beautiful as I age if I keep a happy heart and giving spirit. ‘What a beautiful gift.’ I thought; ‘I will cherish it’.

I wrote in my new journal nightly to keep my thoughts, experiences and of course poetry together. Years later, during college, I read through my entries and found one that gave me an idea. I had studied Hypnotherapy to help others use affirmations and positive reinforcement for changes in their lives. At the end of a session, I would ask each person to tell me about something that happened over the week that made them happy, grateful, or just helped them in some way. I heard stories about meeting someone new, traveling someplace fun or, the most interesting to me, stories of receiving money out of the blue. I wrote down the experiences the clients had told me about and decided to share them, starting with my very own.

I went to a wedding when I was 9. “All the single girls gather around”, said the bride, “I'm going to throw the bouquet.” I ran up excitedly because I thought catching a bouquet was sure to mean love in my future. Ha! Always the romantic. I was probably the smallest in the crowd, standing only 5 foot 2 inches tall, but I was the tallest in my class all through elementary. The day was beautiful. Green grass as far as I could see, sun shining to keep us warm on a June afternoon. The Light was slowly going down but not quite twilight. I was dressed up in red satin dress with my long black hair flowing down my back and a small braid on each side to keep it from getting tangled. The bride started counting “One” a pause. I looked around. “Two” She pretended to throw it as my eyes widened in excitement. THREE! I Jumped. OH. MY. GOD! I caught it! I looked at the stunning gathering of perfect red roses. I put my nose to them and took a deep breath in to take in the fragrance. My eyes opened as inhaled and I saw between each flower, amongst the green leaves and baby’s breath, dollar bills. Woah. I was not expecting THAT. I always hope to find love as is said to happen when you catch the bouquet, but it's amazing what comes to you when you least expect it. Besides, at 9 years old I had a few years to go to find the love of my life.

After I shared my story, people joined in willingly to share theirs. A woman from Arizona said, “It isn’t uncommon, to find money on the ground once in a while. I’m sure people often do. When I was a little girl I’d skip around everywhere chanting ‘Find a penny, pick it up and all day long you'll have good luck.’ as I plucked pennies from the ground.” “The only catch was it had to be facing up” She added. “My dad picked up a penny once and I said “No, no, no, no... It’s bad luck! That isn’t facing up”. He laughed, saying “I just found a penny, seems lucky to me.” She told me she started saving her pennies in a big water bottle. It was filled with all sorts of coins from other countries as well. They had inspired her to use the money to travel to different places and even learn a new language. It proved to her that it’s the small things in life that count.

Another client had said “Maybe it’s my mindset or goals, I don’t know, but It’s always good to have money and I am grateful when I receive it.” She continued her story by telling me of a recent event. Riding through the streets on a scooter. Her son was ahead of her and she yelled to him to slow down. The lights from the scooter only illuminated a few feet on the ground so she worried a bit that he might hit a bump. Taking her own precautions, she looked down and saw a quick flash of something strange. Out of curiosity she turned around and went back. Her son returning at her request watched as she hesitantly picked up the wadded paper off the ground. Unfolding it, she noticed quite a few dollars. Counting it out; Twenty. Forty. Sixty. Seventy. Seventy-eight dollars. She looked around the area, but it was black with night and no-one around to claim the lost treasure. She used it the next day and explained “I have a ritual, of sorts, when money comes to me from out of the blue. I go to a coffee shop and buy my usual, (always something with caramel). Then, I give the cashier $5 and say, ‘this is for the next customer in line’. That's my way of saying thanks and paying it forward. Then I run out the door as soon as I can so that the person is left looking and just saying “thank you” for what I like to call my cup of liquid happiness.”

The stories I heard were endless. A man from Texas who had been having a few struggles had told me he had been wondering where he would get his last bit of money to pay rent. His friend called and invited him out. “Don’t worry so much, things will work out.” His friend told him. The Texan decided to take the advice and went along to the nightclub. As he was walking through a filled parking lot, he took in a deep breath. He described the setting, “It was February in San Antonio, Texas. A place where the snow rarely falls. There were four of us there and the night was dark and cold. I was ready to get into the club and warm up with a little salsa. Dancing, that is” He laughed as he clarified. “On the street a layer of snow had fallen and covered everything within sight. It was just enough to seem strange or foreign. I was glad to let go of my worries for the night and as I did, I looked down.” He paused, raising his eyebrows to show the surprise he felt, “There was a $100 dollar bill in front of me.” “I picked it up and looked around to ask my friends if they dropped it, but they said they didn’t. All I thought was, this is enough to cover the rest of my rent.” He had found that if he let go of his worries and trusted that things would be ok, they would work out, just like his friend said.

Stories continued to fill the pages of my books. I purchased more in different colors for each subject. Love would be pink, green for money, blue for success. I wanted to catalogue the stories in some way because in small increments peoples’ lives were changed by these stories.

I added up the various amounts of money that people had come across here and there. It came to $20,378 dollars and some change. I think back to how it all started and was so grateful that so many people were able to be blessed. All because of the first edition, which would always be the journal my mother had gifted me so many years before. My little black book.