little black book

A few summers back, I was backpacking through Europe when I ran into a mirror of myself. I was out exploring in Venice early one morning when I came upon a huge glass sculpture bigger than my NYC flat. While struggling to find a good spot to set up my camera for a picture, I saw a girl on the opposite side, doing exactly the same thing. I decided to go ask her to take my photo for me, and I'd do the same for her.

As we started talking, we started to realize we had a few things in common. We were both 28. We had both just left toxic long term relationships. We were both backpacking through Europe by ourselves. We had both booked these trips spontaneously after falling upon unused credits and miles. We had been in Europe for exactly the same amount of time and were leaving within a day of each other. And we had met while doing exactly the same thing. It was like meeting myself. But there was something different about Sylvie. She had an essence about her that made her seem almost ethereal. It was as if she could see something beyond the veil of reality that only she could interact with.

We became quick friends and ended up spending the rest of the day together. The more we talked, the more we found that we shared similarities throughout our lives. Down to growing up in a single parent household, to going down a dangerous path on our youths, even down to our majors in college. We were both aspiring writers who were looking for fresh inspiration after having lived in the shadows of our ex lovers for so long. We laughed all day like we were old friends and relaxed into this connection that the universe put into our paths. We shared our dreams of the future for ourselves with each other and I told her of my aspirations to open up a writing center for girls from low income families. We were headed in opposite directions the next day and agreed we would stay in touch. But I didn't ever expect to see her again.

The next morning, I stopped by the café Sylvie and I had lunch at the day before. I was just getting my morning espresso when the barista told me I had left something there. It was a small black notebook. I didn't recognize it immediately until the barista said it might have belonged to the friend I was there with the day before.

Sylvie had a black Moleskin notebook that she carried around and would feverishly scribble in. She said she preferred to write things down by hand. It was half filled with doodles and half filled with writing that even she couldn't read. But that notebook carried such a huge energy with it. It was swimming in her essence. You could feel her soul alive in it. That notebook, with its rubbed down edges and coffee stained pages, were as much a part of her as her limbs. In the midst of all of our laughter, she had left it at the café. It had her old tickets and memories of her trip in it. It had drawings of remote places she wanted to treasure forever. It was already almost filled to the end so I couldn't imagine all of the memories it carried with it. I took it, not knowing if I'd ever see her again. I messaged her and told her I'd mail it to her when we were both back in our home countries again. She was just happy to know I had found it.

Two weeks later, I injured myself. I fell while walking on cobblestone in the middle of a small village in Tuscany and rolled my ankle pretty badly. When I posted a picture of it online, Sylvie was the first person to contact me. She was an hour away from me, in Pisa, where she had just tripped and rolled her ankle. I couldn't explain it, but it felt like it was a sign that our paths were supposed to cross again. So we decided to meet up.

When I met up with Sylvie again, she revealed some information to me that I was not ready to hear. Sylvie wasn't just taking this trip because of a break up. Sylvie had a rare form of brain cancer that was terminal. She had only been given a few more months to live. Her notebook documented her life from that diagnosis til that moment. Her most revealing thoughts, her most vulnerable moments, were captured in those pages. It's as if the world conspired to bring this priceless object back to its rightful owner. We cried together as she shared all of this with me. I felt such an enormous amount of gratitude for being chosen to bring her this comfort.

We only had a week left in our adventures, so we decided to stick together. In that week, we became as close as sisters. She taught me everything about appreciating the littlest moments in life. Life is just a fleeting moment, so you have to make sure to take it all in.

Sylvie passed a month after we left Europe. It turned out Sylvie had another secret. She wasn't a millionaire or anything, but apparently, she had a little bit of money. I was contacted by a lawyer in the months after to find out she had left me $20,000. "I know this money is coming to you as a surprise, but I don't believe our meeting was a coincidence. When I got my cancer diagnosis one of the things I regretted most was not pursuing my writing career. But when you told me of your dreams I realized I could live on through the young writers we can help together. Please use this to inspire young girls like us all over the world. -Sylvie"