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I’ve thought about all the different ways to give you this, I even tried to change my mind, but in the end, I really want you to have it.
Next to my family and my grandfather’s guitar, this is the only other thing in this world that holds any value to me. You shared parts of your inner world with me, and I want to share mine with you. This is the story of my life.
My grandfather brought this cheap notebook home one day just before he died. He said, “Every great musician has a place where they keep their thoughts and write their songs, and I thought this could be yours. Create the magic, kid, and show me what you’ve got.” He always did believe in me.
I’ve been writing in this notebook since I was thirteen. Every phase of my life has inspired different songs, from his death to meeting you, it’s all in here. Some we went on to record, and others we didn’t.
You once mentioned how the lyrics of the songs from the days of Blue Horizons meant something to you, and I’m hoping as you read between the verses and lines, you’ll find the heart of me, because I want to give it to you.
I’m not sure why you left, I wish you’d tell me why. For what it’s worth, I really wanted things to turn out differently.
Merry Christmas.
Love,
Ash
Oh my.
Staring at the letter, I read it again, taking in each word, and more tears swell and fall. This letter is perfect, this letter is for me, this letter is him. The guy I just let walk out of my life.
Biting my lip, I look at the wrapped book. I know what he’s giving me, and he’s right—as a musician and songwriter, that one place where you pour your heart out is one of the most important things in the world. It’s priceless and not something easily shared.
Tearing off the tissue paper, there in the middle of the box, is an old composition book that looks worn and full. It’s tied shut with a string, and under the string is a picture of us. It was taken at the benefit when we were dancing.
Untying the string, I lift up the 5x7 photo and absorb every detail. We look stunning, dressed in formal attire, but it’s more than that. It’s the way we’re standing so close together, looking at each other. It’s the way he’s kissing the back of my hand, so affectionately. It’s the love pouring out of his eyes as he regards me. It’s easy to see how the world latched on to the idea of us being a couple. We look enchanting and it’s hopeful.
Hope.
Not long after I moved to New York, I was walking down the street and as I passed a stationary store, there was a canvas print in the window that said, “Hope shines brightest in the darkest moments,” and I felt that was written just for me. I bought it and it hangs on the wall in my room.
Hopeful—that’s how Ash’s made me feel over the last six weeks.
Up until that weekend at the lake, I was fine with my life. I was content with my friends, the success of our career, and to me, it was pretty much perfect. But he came roaring in and showed me what was missing.
I’m not sure if I ever thought I could be with someone again. No one wants a damaged girl, or a girl they can’t touch. But Ash, he saw past all of it, and in those darkest moments, he was the light.
Doubt slips in under my skin and my stomach starts to ache. Maybe I’ve read him and this entire situation wrong. Maybe I jumped to conclusions when I should have been asking for an explanation. Maybe I made a mistake.
Pushing the uncertainty from my mind, I crawl under my covers with his black and white notebook and open the cover. There on the inside is a short inscription from his grandfather, and I run my fingers over the three little words that must have meant the world to him.
Page after page is filled with ideas, lyrics, musical notes, and songs. Some are complete, and some are fragments, but he’s right—it all tells the story of him. His handwriting, the depth of his words, the talent, it’s easy to see his personal as well as professional growth as the pages turn.
In many ways, people might think this is more like a diary or a journal, but really it’s so much more than that. These aren’t just words; they are his inner feelings all tied to a sound. A sound that isn’t just heard, but felt. Felt in the very soul of him and then shared with the world.
I love this book. Coffee stains, tears, and laughter, it’s all in here, and it’s all him.
I’m beyond speechless that he would give me this. Something so dear and irreplaceable. It speaks volumes about him, and it speaks volumes about how he truly feels about me.
Hope again blooms in my chest, whereas just a few minutes ago I thought it was withering and dying. Hope that maybe I’m not in this alone—that he feels what I feel—and hope that maybe everything will turn out all right.
Flipping to the end, I read over the last couple of pages. His words go from screaming desperation, which I assume was his mindset last summer, to finding peace, which I’d like to think is because of me. There are bits about soulmates, love, and even the beginnings of a song called “Blue to Blue.”
But it’s the last page that causes me to tremble. It’s the last page that takes my breath away. It’s the last page that finally tells me everything I need to know.
It’s a page titled “Be.”
And there in the middle are two words, and only two words . . .
