To each his own. To me my own.

The Long Lost Journal

The night I found it, the contents that I read kept me awake. I had placed it back in the box I found it in, along with some old pictures, planning to keep it buried. The era was 1991-1992. Oh, my simple little young mind. Still in the beginning years of what turned out to be a 21-year marriage. Everything seemed so black and white back then.

There were a handful of poems I’d written in the journal, a short one I would like to post today. It was written for my daughter, who was not quite four years old at the time. I remember writing it, my heart swelling with love as I’d glance over at her. I recall wondering how she would look when she was older, what she would end up doing professionally, who she would marry. Somehow, I knew even back then her strength would know no bounds.

Her and I had a conversation a couple nights ago that reminded me just how mature she is for her age. She mentioned the time when she was still with her now ex-boyfriend, who she loved more than life itself. She told me, “Mom, I know he’s a great person – just a bad boyfriend.” Even at her young age, she was strong enough to let a relationship go because she knew it was destructive for her. She recognized patterns of behavior that weren’t acceptable. Could I, would I have been that strong at 21 years of age? Obviously not. I’m convinced that strength comes in spurts, and at different times in your life. Mine was just saving up ’til now.

My Julia….
It seems so many years
Since the day when you were born
I’m blessed I feel, as I recall
there will come many more.
You’re more than I ever asked for
So innocent and true
Already my dreams are answered
If there’s nothing else you do.
Believe me, bug, that when I tell
My dreams of you to some
They know, as I, that you’ll succeed
That you’ve already won.

(2-27-92)

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