Book of Notes - Christmas Gifts #1

     I don't think Sha'rel reads my blog, so this should be fairly safe. SHA'REL, DON'T READ THIS POST. There.

     So here we dive in- Christmas gifts! I have a couple finished ones that I might share over the course of December. :)

     Gift Number One: to Sha'rel, my friend of Whole-Life.

     Book of Notes.

     As of now I am using a hairtie to keep the thing shut, but it'll turn into a ribbon or so later on.

     Stuffed.

     I must have confused blogger; it uploaded half these horizontals as verticals. Here's a little peek of what's inside. :) Left page: memory. Right page: Valentine her siblings gave me.

     Left page: memory. Right page: Coloring page she gave me.

     Making this book for someone would be pretty hard to do most of the time; I didn't want to use any letters really, but I didn't have a billion pictures to fill the pages with... so I used a lot of different pictures we drew and little notes or stories we had written.  This page: Old pictures of us & our "old sayings".

     Throw in a little bit of random, some colorful markers, a couple of in-jokes, some new notes/letters from me, and there you go... A scrapbook/book of notes as a Christmas gift!

Uncle Wilbur

2001

I peeled the bright sticker from it's backing, and the stiff edge slid underneath my fingernails. 

"Here," I said, and laughed shyly.

The man with white hair leaned down toward me, and my toes held me up as I reached toward his cap. I pressed the shiny sticker onto the blue front and rested back on my heels.

"Perfect," he said, patting the tip of his hat. "That's just right."

2002

He lifted the faded cap off his head. "See?" he said to me. "It's still here." His voice sank to a conspiratorial whisper. "My wife wants to wash it, but then it'll come off." 

He pointed to the peeling edges of the rainbow colored sticker. "It's still there!" he said again to assure me, and I nodded happily.

2004

I stood taller, shyer, and listened as he said goodbye to them. My teeth bit the edge of my lips, until he looked at me and smiled.

"The sticker came off," he said regretfully, and I nodded.

"That's okay," I said. He remembered!

"I tried to stick it back on," he explained, "but it wouldn't stay."

I ran to the van, scrambling back into my row. I yanked out my bag, rummaging wildly between the books and paper. There they are. I jumped out of the van and spied his retreating figure walking up the hill with his cane. I ran to catch up, pulling to a stop beside him.

"Here," I said, and laughed happily as I pushed the yellow sticker onto his brown cap.

2007

I sat next to his lawn chair on the porch.

"I have hot chocolate," he said, smiling. "Do you like hot chocolate?"

"Yeah," I said, laughing.

"I like it when there's marshmallows in it," he said in a confiding voice. "The little soft ones, that when you swallow they go down like--" he tilted his neck down and gulped dramatically as he popped up his head, and he made me laugh again.

I looked out at the sunlit lawn. "I think we have to go," I said, standing slowly and looking at his bare cap and plaid shirt.

Leaning over, I wrapped my arms around his shoulders. As I let go, he sat forward and kissed my cheek with his smiling mouth. "That's a peck," he said. "A peck on the cheek." He squeezed my hand with his rough brown one.

"Here," I said, and laughed softly as I kissed his cheek and said goodbye.

Age I Feel (sometimes)

I hear my friends talking excitedly about their big plans. Big smiles fill their faces when they spread their arms to hug the world. They talk with confidence about college and marriage and licenses and work and growing older. But I don’t want to think about that, because I’m not ready, so I walk away to a dark window and calm my frightened breathing while gazing out at the night. I wonder if I’ll ever feel like things are under control. I wish time would stop so I could try to smooth everything out before moving on. And that’s when I feel younger than I am, because I’m too old to be so unsure.

(But I don't feel this way all the time. ;-) This is a portion of a paper I wrote for my writing class.)