Yellow Legal Pad

I took the twins to the Dollar Store last week.  They were bursting at the seams from the moment we got there.  Easter goodies, bubbles, silly string, cowboy guns….what more could a set of four year olds ask for.  Ethan picked a police set that had handcuffs so I spent the better part of the afternoon handcuffed and searching for keys.  Gigs got silly string and the front lawn still looks like a pinata exploded on it.  I bought a three pack of yellow legal pads.

I love yellow legal pads – yellow not white.  I love the pale blue lines.  I write my to do lists on them.  I write quotes, ideas and stories.  I never rip the pages off.  I just flip the top piece over and keep them all together.  When I see a yellow legal pad I feel like a Mountain Dew can that Ethan has just tossed down the steps.

I’ve tried keeping my notes and to do lists on my iPad.  I have all kinds of journaling apps.  I have the post it app that lets me put lists on all kinds of colored paper and hang them on a bulletin board.  I’ve downloaded a dozen apps but none work as well as the 33 cent pad of paper. By the way, pleeeeease don’t tell Justin!!  He might stop buying me the latest techie gadget if he knows the truth.  I will not be happy if I only get yellow legal pads for my birthday.

In January I bought three Moleskine journals.  A wellness journal, a book lovers journal and a plain journal.  I carry them around in my favorite Lululemon bag that has all kinds of fabulous and inspiring quotes on it.  I bought a pack of fine tip markers to use with them.  I can pick any color in the rainbow.  I bought the paper bag brown Moleskine journals for my writing class.  I use my markers in them as well.  I’ve written more in a week on my yellow legal pad than I have since January in my journals.

When my dad started to get really sick Dave and I spent a day going through his files.  We wanted to find his will and his other important papers while we could still ask him some questions even though we knew we probably wouldn’t get reliable answers from Dad anymore.  Sometimes there was a little kernel of truth mixed in.  Most times reality was completely absent.  Like the time he told me the nurses forced him to go to a Yom Kippur celebration and the rabbis stole my phone number.

When we opened my dad’s closet and got out the legal sized plastic bins we found stacks of yellow legal paper.  Letters written several times to people on yellow paper.  I suppose he wanted to save a copy for himself if he sent the letter so he handwrote two copies. I remember reading a letter he had written to a friend about the cherry blossoms when I was only about nine years old.  He sat in his leather chair at his table that he used as a desk and wrote the letter.  When he got up to go to the bathroom I ran over and read as much as my nine year old eyes could read before he flushed the toilet.  Years of  journal entries were meticulously written on yellow paper. Again, some were written several times.  He had copies of the letters he had written to me and to Dave.  We got letters for special moments in our lives and for moments in his life that needed a bit more explanation.  All were written on a yellow legal pad.

And now I have decided not to fight the feelings I have for my favorite pad of paper.  I know that it is an inherited trait that will not be ignored.

 

 

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