The Lady of Letters

I saw a post on Face Book the other day.  Even “liked” and “shared” it! It was an old-fashioned picture of a little girl.  The old-fashioned ones, especially those with the fifties feel to them always get my attention. I  like and share anything from that era.  Sometimes even if the platitude (that’s what Jan calls them) isn’t something I particularly agree with.

This one was different though. It was about honouring your Inner child. The little girl you were before you felt rejection or life just got to you. About what you liked then when you were whole and felt good about yourself (and life!).

That message spoke to me. It took me back to an Inner Child group I attended in Jo’burg and John Bradshaw’s book “Homecoming”. The letters I wrote to (and from) Little Perdita.  Her letters filled with the desire to be free and live a little! At that age she was already tired of being the “Good Girl”.  Or was that me – the adult version? It doesn’t really matter, I suppose, we are one and the same – Little Perdita and Big Perdita.

The message was about what it is that the mini-you liked to do.  I liked to teach… teddy bears, brothers and friends (real and imaginary!) –all became pupils and were given tasks, books and stars. I imagine I marked the children’s work with a frown of concentration puckering my brow…much as I do now.

Paper, crayons and pens (especially brightly coloured ones) absolutely delighted my little heart and soul.  I once longed with my whole being for a huge set of crayons – the biggest one to be had. Don’t rightly know whether I ever voiced that longing and got my heart’s desire. Chances are I didn’t… because I can remember being very surprised in my middle years after my divorce by the realization that if you want something, you actually have to ask for it!

Even as a scholar in primary school I loved to write! My favourite thing (besides reading) was writing.  I still have an essay I wrote about my first crush dating from my high school days.  I got 85% for that story and kept it long after I let go of most of my mementos.  I know it is not about the then object of my affection, but about the writing. Being acknowledged for my writing. Or was it just the thrill of taking a theme and giving it a surprising twist? That was definitely part of it. I can still feel the joy when I think of it.

This photo of me was taken on an ocean liner as our family crossed the equator on our way to Germany. A fancy dress do. I am dressed as “The Lady of Letters”.  The post reminded me of that six year old me with the realization …that is what I truly am – a writer. A lady of letters.