There are few things as beautiful to me as the smooth creaminess of a blank notebook page. I love running my hands over its soft, empty expanse. There’s a comforting hope in imagining the smooth lines of my pen filling that page. The words of my mind and heart drawing a map on that blank landscape. The potential of it is one of the most amazing things in life.

I love the sensations of it. The silky feeling of the untouched page beneath my fingertips. The glide of my pen over its fibers, leaving the flow of my cursive behind it. The unique beauty of my handwritten lines as they weave together stories and ideas and revelations. I love it when my letters glow with color, shimmering or glittery, or stand in elegant, smooth black. Whether it is a story, a reflection or a letter, the sight of those words and sentences in their own one-of-a-kindness does my soul good.

Seeing that empty page fill up with my thoughts and feelings, there has always been a sense of joy that wells up in me. These lines and words on this feather expanse of paper are proof that I exist. Proof that I had thoughts and ideas and did my best to send good out into the world during my time here on Earth. I pray my words will indeed have done some good and shared love even beyond my knowledge of it. If my lines, letters, and stories last after I am gone, I pray that they will do only good for those who find them. May they be blessings and encouragements. May theses lines up on these empty expanses of pages exhort others to be just, merciful, and brave.

Words are precious, and I have been blessed with an abundance of them. May the pages I leave behind do good; may my gift give of its best in love.