Disclaimer: I don't own them, and you know that, and you also know who really owns them, so I'm not gonna put it

Disclaimer: I don't own them, and you know that, and you also know who really owns them, so I'm not gonna put it.

Author's notes: Here's the sequel to The Notebook. You might be lost a little if you don't read that, so read that first. This is the first chapter. Please review and tell me what you think. Thanks!

I know he doesn't know that I kept my own notebook just like he did. But it's quite funny that my notebook takes up right after his ends. I suppose having both notebooks will come in handy one day when my Alzheimer's disease will finally take over my brain and I won't remember Harm's and my past, let alone remember who he even is.

There's only a few things he doesn't know about me, the notebook I've kept, and why I was really going to leave fifty years ago. And if I ever want to remember, then I suppose I'll have to tell him so that he can tell me.

My mind's starting to go into a fog now, it's been getting worse lately too. The doctors said this would happen eventually, but I didn't expect it so soon. Every time it happens, the fear that takes over me is almost unbearable, because I can't seem to recall simple things about who the man with the gold wedding band is sitting next to me.

Harm looks just as wonderful as I always thought he did. I must admit, he's been so wonderful to me even though I've hurt him numerous times. I guess when you have a love that strong, nothing, no matter how terrible, can sever it.

We made the choice to move into this nursing home about six months ago, when I was diagnosed. We decided together that it would be easier on our children, as well as us. It was very emotional for me, moving out of the house we married and had three children in.

Harm will come in to check on me in a moment, just to make sure I'm okay. When I forget his name, he has a technique to help me regain my memory. Sometimes it works, and sometimes it doesn't, but whenever I ask who we are, he likes to use a different name for each of us. I suspect that it's not just something he does to help me regain my memory on my own, but something he does to keep from being frustrated that I can't seem to recall who we are. I don't blame him for feeling a bit frustrated; I feel that way too sometimes.

I feel a hand rest on my shoulder, and I look up into his face. "Hi. Having a nice rest?" he asks me with a grin.

"I know something you don't know," I tease him as my hands finger the notebook on my lap. My notebook is very similar to his with the exception of a different color.

"Would it have something to do with that notebook you're holding?" he asks.

"Why yes it would. Would you like to see?"

"Yes."

"You read yours to me. Now its my turn to read mine to you." I open the notebook and I begin to read as he did just a few hours ago.