This is an auspicious night. A sad one. In fact, I'm sitting here on my bed with a dog and a sleeping husband and this brand new, never written-in journal and I can hardly bear to write on the first page. You see, after 36 years and at least twice that many blue notebooks, I've come to the last one.
For years, my source for these journals (or composition books as they are actually called) has been the Student Bookstore at Washington State University. When I lived in Pullman, I bought them myself. Then my mother bought them for me. Then, after my mother became too ill for it, my sister became the purchaser. However, in the last decade they've been harder to come by. A few years ago, RE bought me a huge stack. I was set for a long time, I figured.
Set until about now, it turns out. Tonight, when I finished the last page of my last notebook, I went to my stash shelf to grab the next unwritten journal, and only found ONE blue notebook left.
There are other compositions on that stash shelf. My sister has seen to that. Even my mother did. Mom bought me a different type a long time ago--anticipating this day, I suppose. And RE is always a planner. She knew last Christmas that I must be running low, so she bought what she could. Something nearly like, but NOT like, these old friends of mine since I was twenty.
Think of that. All of you journallers out there--you love the joy of finding a new book in which to spread out your hopes, prayers and dreams like and offering on a pretty table. I haven't ever even looked at those pretty books. (though, to be completely frank, I do have 10 that I've been given and used along with the blue notebooks along the way), I want the continuity of my seamless old friends, my comfortable green lines on lighter green pages that I've been staring at each day for so long I don't see them until tonight. Tonight I see them all lined up there on my shelf like sentinels, standing guard over my life, helping me pay attention to what God is doing. Always what God is doing. So many many times I've actually SEEN Him speak as my own hand moves the pen across the page. Writing things I didn't even know were in me to write. That's Holy Spirit-stuff. And it's all in those blue notebooks.
So I come to the last one (which I believe is my 75th--72 are up there, and the last one, plus the last RJD one need to be shelved).
Unless I can comb the internet to find a cache of them somewhere in the vastness that is the web.
I'm not hopeful about that tonight.
Tonight I'm simply thinking about the joy of these blue notebooks,
the possibility of what will be on the empty pages of the one lying beside me.
Tonight I'm only letting myself think about one last blue notebook.
I'm feeling a little sad.
If any of you come across them, leave me a note with the location so I can get some!