50 years ago
this small notebook was mine
my mother kept it
all those years
astonishingly
just recently
it was returned to me
in it I wrote such naive poems
that make me feel astonished
who is she
this girl of 17
in love with the thought of love
when belief was certain
she left the notebook
and her few possessions
and life as she knew it
left her mother
her family
a last look at her home
the sandy bay
the hilly peninsula
as if she'd never seen them before
then
without looking back
she went
never to return
life is like that
at 17
when romance will last forever
we think
I have a couple of diaries from my teen years and they're almost painful to read. I suppose it's all part of growing up, believing love will always carry the day. I think I prefer Now when I believe in love still, but know better than to put all my eggs in one basket. :)
ReplyDeleteWhat an interesting cover and I love the top phrase: "My own book of treasures." In your hand?
How wonderful that you mother saved it, Joan, and that now it has come home to you. "In love with the thought of love". Oh, how that exemplifies many a 17 year old girl. Sometimes, I think back to my younger years, just as I was about to leave for college, and I don't recognize myself. Then, if I dig a little deeper, aha, there she is after all.
ReplyDeleteAs the other commenters have noted, it's hard sometimes to recognize our younger selves. I, too, have some of my old journals and blush to read how silly I was.
ReplyDeleteWhat a treat from the past. The amazing thing is that I have a little notebook almost identical to yours, and it contains my first innocent poems as well. My mother kept things too, and I'm so grateful about that.
ReplyDelete