Some things, I find, are too precious to be shared. Like a priceless jewel, they are best kept secreted away; handled and admired in private.
A vivid memory surfaces. September: first week of school. The teacher’s voice, like chalk streaking across a blackboard, screeching the assignment, Write an essay titled, My Summer Vacation.
I picture myself staple-gunned to the board. My whole self, exposed.
Ignoring the homework was not an option. Okay, it was, but the consequence was an ‘F.’ Not a good way to start the school year. So I used my imagination and wrote about a make-believe trip. In other words…I lied. Shhhh!
My summer vacation included friendships, family outings, shared moments and experiences; some too happy, or too sad to put into words. But it was mostly about all of the places I went within myself that made me grow and go back to school just a little bit older and wiser.
I cannot express how I felt sitting out on the fire-escape staring up at the night sky and dreaming of worlds beyond the stars, in spite of the car hor
ns and fire engines whizzing by. Sometimes my elder brother would join me and point out various constellations; he knew all of their names. Or he’d tell me tales from Greek mythology, like The Wings of Icarus. I knew there was a lesson in that one; follow your parent’s advice.
And why would I want to tell anyone what it was like to go to the Hayden Planetarium with my brother, or share a secret and a hero sandwich with a new friend, or quietly walk shoulder to shoulder with my best friend while eating a Mister Softy ice-cream cone?
Reveal my treasures in an essay?
To a stranger?
For a grade?
I don’t think so!
Which brings me back to the topic of writing, or not. That is the question; though the fact that I ask it seems to provide the answer, “Not.”
I am most content when writing just for myself, or for a small circle of intimate friends. The coffee, sweets, and conversations we share last a life-time and deepen our relationships.
That is the reader and the audience I cherish most.
See you next time on October 22nd.
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Manager, educator, and former high school social studies teacher, Veronica credits her love of history to the potpourri of cultures that make up her own life and to her upbringing in diverse Brooklyn, NY. Her genres of choice are historical fiction, where she always makes new discoveries, and children’s picture books, because there are so many wonderful worlds yet to be imagined and visited. She currently resides in Macungie, PA., but she’s still a Brooklyn girl at heart.
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The exhibit and the book inspired me to dream bigger, reach higher, and dig deeper within myself to find the kaleidoscope of colors and illuminating power that can help to light up my world.
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Have you ever wondered why seashells blanket the seashore? Is it the sea that spews some of them out and they wash up on the shore? Or is it the shells themselves that escape and prefer to make their new home in the sand; choosing warm and dry or cool and moist?
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Anniversaries are festive occasions marking milestones and accomplishments. We recount experiences and memories; some sad, but hopefully mostly joyful. We celebrate the depth and richness of our shared lives.
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Every once in a while I daydream about what it would be like to meet some famous individual from the past. And if I did meet them, what would I say? Once we’d get past the introductions, nice to meet you; how’s the weather?, and other such polite niceties, what would I ask them or talk about? Maybe I’d freeze and my mind would go blank transforming me into a banal idiot.
Nothing Found
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Enjoyed your article, Veronica. Writing, or not, is such a subjective thing, isn’t it? We all write for different reasons and I agree with you that some things are just too precious to air to the public and we want to keep them secret, to be shared only with a few. I also think that I could never write for others, to cater to a taste or a market. I write my best when I let it flow as naturally as my breath, and that cannot be contrived. It just has to happen in its own way when it will. I call it my meditation, actually. And it arises from all things universal.
Thank you for this post.
Thank you for that reflection, Neetu. Seems like we have alot in common.
Glad we do, Veronica. 🙂
Yes, Neetu. Me too.