Writer's Notebook

Lilly sat down at her writing desk, her large leather bound journal open in front of her. It had told the same story for the past three years. It always began with a whole list of New Year Resolutions, things which Lilly was determined she wanted to put into practice over the coming months. By the third of January, at the latest, the entries told the story of failure and renewed determination but after a further few weeks of hovering between hope and failure, the entries started to decrease in frequency, thus sending her final resolution out through the window. From now on, the only entries in the journal told the helter skelter story of Lilly's usually unreciprocated loves.

Lilly took up her new pen. She always bought a new pen to start her journal with. It gave her a greater feeling of success and put her in the mood to attack her resolutions. As the pen hit the paper she hesitated. Could she really do it? In the past, there had been at least fourteen resolutions every year. Sometimes as many as twenty-five. How could she write just... What would happen if she failed. There'd be nothing left to following. She had to concede, however, that multiple resolutions weren't helping her at all. Maybe this really would help focus her mind on essentials.

So with a flourish she wrote the first sentence, and thus begun her usual New Year's Eve ritual of looking back, and plotting for the future. She did this every year before going out to the New Year's party held as always at the family mansion. Her Grandmother, and now her Aunt had kept up this tradition for the past 52 years, and Lilly would not miss it for the world. Had she but thought of enshrining this in her annual list of items with which she would torture herself for the rest of the month, she would surely have one small success. But resolutions weren't about fun, they were about things which were doomed to failure from the start. But this torturing of herself was her way of coming to terms with her life. At least, she could claim she was trying to get the better of herself.

She stopped after the first sentence and read it again.

It seemed a strange resolution for a young girl to make but Lilly was always falling in love. She frittered away the better part of nearly every day sighing after her latest hero, and this inevitably led her to offer herself slain at his altar, only to be rejected by a surprised but unwilling knight, not yet in search of a maiden to rescue. It would have to stop, otherwise her life would come to nothing. She made a mental list of all the young men she had been smitten by over the past 12 months, shooting them down one by one.

True, there remained no acquaintances left, now they had all been buried by the wayside, but that hadn't stopped her in the past. Besides, there was always Mike. Not that she had ever fallen in love with him. That would be wrong. Mike had been her friend and faithful companion as long as he could remember. They had grown up together, attended school together. They were closer than brother and sister. He knew about every one of her past heroic fantasies and had remained stoically unmoved by whatever protestations she had sworn at the time, remaining there to pick up the pieces when the inevitable denoument shattered her confidence once again. Indeed, if ever there was a perfect partner, then Mike must surely be it. But one couldn't fall in love with Mike. Marry him, yes; surely someone would, one day. And they would love him truly, she hoped. But fall hopelessly, altogether head over heals in love - no, not with Mike.

Anyway, there was no time to think about that now. She was late already. Mike would be calling to pick her up in less than an hour, and she wasn't even nearly ready for him. Yet, there was so much she still wanted to write, so many dreams she wanted to share with her journal before the New Year began, and strangely enough Mike began to feature in some of them. She gathered up her journal, pen and all her coloured pencils. She would make time to continue her dreaming at her aunt's, she decided, racing off to the bathroom.

She took more time than usual in the bathroom, that evening; certainly more time than she had ever taken before going out with Mike. But he didn't mind. He was used to her caprices and was glad of a few minutes alone before she came down, as he had something to do. That afternoon, he had ended the undecision which had afflicted him for quite some time now, and declared himself to Lilly. But shy as he was, he couldn't bring himself to do it in person. So he had written her a long epistle in a steady hand and was now looking for a place to hide it where she would surely come upon it the next day. Seeing the journal lying there on the table, Mike quickly slid the letter in the place where the bookmark for that day was, taking great pains not to read what she had written. He didn't have to read anyway. He knew it would be full of tears and sighs as his only friend flitted from one fantasy to another with unrelenting eagerness. Oh, she was so vulnerable, and how he longed to be able to cherish and protect her if only she...

But there she was, coming down the stairs, and who could not help noticing that this evening she was more beautiful than ever. There was a certain gleam in her eyes that he had not noticed before and that he could not help reciprocating, causing Lilly to blush. His surprise turned to consternation when he saw her pick up her journal and make to put it into her bag. She looked at him wide-eyed as the letter slid out from the place he had hidden it and flattered slowly and gracefully to the floor.

In a fever of excitement Lilly bent down to pick it up, tearing open the envelope, reading attentively the first few lines, flicking through the several pages before flinging herself onto his neck and encamping herself there. Then, just as suddenly she broke the embrace, sat herself down at her desk, opened her journal and took up her pen: