Melancholy Child

[Scarlet22]

Hi all,

I wanted to share one of my writings here. This place has been such a comfort to me-and I am SO grateful I have found you.

Peace,



Melancholy Child

I came, quietly into this world.
Lights were dimmed and voices hushed.
They say I didn’t make a sound, I just looked-blinking at the light.

I turned five that late August when the world was also moving past its innocence.
I was still slightly busy looking for magic.
I would find it in the most mundane places-in a leaf floating in our pond, or the “wish-flowers” I would pull from the ground and blow off into the air.

Looking up towards the sky, well nearly as high, was the counter of the bank- I could not see past it. A hand with a pretty ring would hand me a lollipop and I would reach up on my tippy-toes to try to see the gift giver. I remember walking out following my mother-my security blanket with beautiful eyes and scented like heaven.

A universe unknown, they called school, was frighteningly far from home. I felt so alone. I would always make sure to have worn my prettiest dress and smile each day. Somehow, it didn’t seem to chase my blues away. I could not help but worry about very important things. Who would keep the classroom pet company late at night? Where were its mommy and daddy? Just who would keep track of all of these things, if not me?

What one thing awakes us from our childish slumber? Is it just one thing? I suppose we wake by degrees.
I wonder to myself. I think I knew even then I would have to awaken. I held so tight to each thing I learned and found comfort in. Life always had to pry my little fingers loose so that I would grow, grudgingly of course.

I planned to be a princess when I grew up and I was quite sure this would occur, as my grandfather had stated it was a fact. I thought it was a strong possibility as I had already thought up the perfect princess dress. I am pretty sure it was the one I got that Christmas, the one that fanned out around me as I twirled by the fireplace. Grandma knew it too. She would look at me with that wonderfully clear gaze of hers and then hug me until I could not breath. I miss her.

A tiny image standing by our huge picture window in the living room, I watched, fixated on a little bird that had fallen out of its nest only to have a cat pounce and drag it away. I was inconsolable. Mom wrapped me up in her arms until I finally stopped crying. She was the safest place I knew. I don’t think she said many words, because-how do you tell a child that life is not always fair?
She just held me steady, till I was ready to stand up on my own.

Yes, I am melancholy. I always have been. I have always been nearly moved to tears at the sight of an airplane-passing overhead. Someone is always leaving.

I remember my older sister’s long brown hair. It was just like silk and always smelled like some wonderful secret I wanted to know. I remember trying on her shoes, her clothes, and her makeup. Trying her nerves. She was the closest thing to the future that I knew. She would laugh and flip her hair from her shoulder and talk like she was pretty sure she knew all the really good secrets. I adored her. She had a stuffed octopus with bells on his feet. She had a phone and she had my total attention.

I remember my little sister. She came and I felt so off balance. I wanted to love her, but I didn’t want her to take my place. I was not big enough to really hold her or take care of her. She was a chatty little ball of energy. She was the bearer of bruises and stubbed toes for the family. I figured every family must have one, and was quite grateful that it was not my job.

My father was tall and was always going to work. I imagined it must be a big place he went, as he was very tired when he returned. He knew how to fix things. I remember laying with my head on his chest listening to his heartbeat. He was in charge of locking all doors.

My mother was very magical. She had silky dresses and gold shoes in her closet. She knew how to really make a party. When people would come over, my mom would make them feel like the whole party was just for them. My mother bought me my first makeup. My mother was the first to let me go. She was the easiest one to come back to because of it. I would watch her getting ready to go out. She was so beautiful. Her hair was up and she had on a beautiful dress. I imagined what it was like to be her. I imagined her out on some dance floor spinning and spinning with all the people applauding for her.

Maybe I am melancholy because I carry their dreams with me. Maybe I have never forgotten those moments.
Either way, I don’t apologize for it anymore. This is who I am. There is no cure for my soul, my heart, and my depth. I am grateful I was there at that time. I am grateful when I awake in my quiet room every morning, I don’t make a sound, the lights are dimmed-as I blink at the light of the new day.

©2006-2007 Miss Presley

[indigo]

What a wonderful poem Scarlet, thank you.