 Poetry: February 11, 2026 Issue [#13593] |
This week: Little Blue Notebook Edited by: fyn-busy writing!!!  
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1. About this Newsletter
2. A Word from our Sponsor
3. Letter from the Editor
4. Editor's Picks
5. A Word from Writing.Com
6. Ask & Answer
7. Removal instructions
You've gotta dance like there's nobody watching,
Love like you'll never be hurt,
Sing like there's nobody listening,
And live like it's heaven on earth. ~~William W. Purkey
You know you're in love when you can't fall asleep because reality is finally better than your dreams. ~~Dr. Seuss
I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you simply, without problems or pride: I love you in this way because I do not know any other way of loving but this, in which there is no I or you, so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand, so intimate that when I fall asleep your eyes close. ~~Pablo Neruda
She knew she loved him when ‘home’ went from being a place to being a person. ~~E. Leventhal
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The first year my now hubby and I were together, on Valentine's Day, he sent me an e-card of Cupids firing arrows into people...splashing blood in ketchup squirts. I wasn't amused. In fact, I was pretty hurt. We talked about it, and shortly it was quite clear we were having one of those 'Mars vs Venus' moments. Then he made a statement about it being a Hallmark commercial holiday and was all about money and how people should say they love each other all the time, and finally, that it didn't need a special 'day.'
Me, being old-school female brought up with folks who fussed over the day, did not get it. I couldn't argue with a lot of what he said, but, in the moment, that was 100% beside the point! Anyway, we still managed to have a good night.
The next day, I went out and bought one of the small, thick, fat notebooks. It looked like it would have 365 pages (or so) and then, for the following year, I wrote something to my hubby every. single. day. Something funny that happened, a loving moment, something sweet he did, or just some way he did something or other exactly right.
At first, it was something I really had to think about. It was one more thing I had to do every day. Sometime along the way, it became a habit. Something I looked forward to doing. Then it became even more. It became far more important than my initial reason for doing it. Then, it was simply to make a 'sort of' nasty comment.--That see? I could do that every day. But then it changed.
Somedays, I wrote in that blue notebook four or five times throughout the day. I never missed one. I looked forward to it. Many a night, before I turned out the light on my side of the bed, I simply write that I loved him and my current favorite reason why.
As it turned out, that was the year we got married. It was also the year we lost a dear friend. It was the year we had to file for bankruptcy. It was the year I was bedridden for several months with a back issue that wouldn't resolve itself. In the rank and file of twenty-one years together, it was not one of the 'better' years. It was a hard one.
The following Valentine's Day, proving beyond a doubt that my thoughts from the previous one had sunk in, and resonated with him, I woke up to a dozen roses, a loving card, and going out to dinner. I gave him the completed notebook.
Did he ever read all of it? No. He's said he figures he read about half of it, just every now and then, reading a few pages or some specific date. It is still in his bedside table. Never really thought he actually would. And honestly, in the end, it was more for me than him!
The journeys we make with our special people are just that. Special. Are we always holding up our end of the deal? Nope. Sometimes we have miserable failures, terrible cases of 'foot-in-mouth' disease, or we just muck up. But love? Love goes beyond that, supercedes that.
All in all, I have a kick-butt, awesome hubby. I am so lucky. So is he! It took me several tries to figure out how to be a good wife, spouse, lover, partner, and friend. There were years prior to my hubby, when I made spectacularly poor life choices. I basically shot myself in the foot a few times. There were years when Valentine's Day was the worst holiday ever! Then I figured it out, figured me out, and these days, it is a nice day again. And the cards we may forget to get, the flowers that may not be affordable, and the dinners that are hot dogs and mac 'n cheese are every bit as good. (With a bit of imagination!)
Love is vital. For ourselves, for our significant others, for our children, for our friends, and for our family. That is what is important.
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Joseph   writes: What a great newsletter. I love family history and all their short personal stories that will be forgotten if no one writes them down. Simple stories like 'grandmas learning how to drive and running over Uncle Billy story.'
This newsletter hits right at home for me. Raised in the country by my grandparents where Hoarding was a natural thing. You didn't throw nothing away. You might need it or parts from it someday. Houses with narrow pathways through the junk was also a common sight. You didn't go to the store, you went to the barn, the chicken house or the garden.
Every object does have a story to tell, and those stories should be preserved.
I just wanted to thank you for this great newsletter. Keep up the great work.
Thank you!!!
JCosmos  says: i can relate. I have thousands of books sitting in my house in Korea waiting for to get rid of them someday but that will have to wait until I return next month ... this resonates with me. i am currently in DC returning to Korea where i will have to downsize before returning to the DC area to reside. Getting too difficult maintaining an overseas home and a US home. One of the things I am faced with is what to do with my thousands of English language books, art work, and CDs.
Wow, I bet that's difficult!
Mara ♣ McBain  comments: Awesome piece. I applaud how you see the history and love among the clutter and the generosity of you and your hubby. Bless you. 
Thanking you!
TeeGateM  says: The editor’s letter was wonderful. That line—“Don’t we too have these types of stories that need to be, should be preserved? We won’t live forever. But the stories absolutely should!”—truly struck my heart.
Thank you so much for telling us about this. God bless you and your husband.
Kind wishes, Tee
Thanks :)
Claevyan  writes: This is a great perspective. There are times when a hoarder is motivated by a sense of "get, have, take, possess" that is outside the realm of "maintain, preserver, keep, tell" and both attitudes can be seen in and motivate an author's writing.
Some years ago I was asked to write an autobiography to submit along with a college application. I wrote a story book compendium. A list of titles and their summaries like "Learning to Sew", "My Little Farm", or the ongoing "Oops!" saga.
Our lives are a collection of the stories that happen to us and around us. We are each the main characters of our stories, and often recurring cast members in someone else's drama.
Telling those stories is difficult. How can my life be important to someone else? How can I impart meaning or wisdom to another when I am desperately seeking it myself?
But we are a species of story tellers. From the campfire to the stars, to the stage, to the page, to the screens big and small, we all tell the tales of self. Ego. Even the items we choose to hoard tell the stories of life passed and present, and hopes we have or had and forget.
All our stories are important! They make us who we are!
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