Listening to some favourite old tunes
(Fats Domino, Elvis, then ‘Moon River’…)
I remember gazing out our window
high on a hilltop overlooking the silent town
down to a moonlit river – that wide, stilled
confluence the town was built around –
darkened but known, the light a straight path
across the dim surface. I thought I might take it, some day.
That was 69 years ago; I was 14. The next year
separated me forever from my town and my home river.
I am sharing this with Poets and Storytellers United for Friday Writings #81 where I invite people to write about the city or cities they dream of – in whatever way.
When I was growing up in Launceston, Tasmania (pictures here) I experienced it as a small town, but have since learned it was already classified as a city long before I was born.
I don't want to live in Launceston again – far too cold for me now – but for many years I did dream of its scenic beauty and small-town feeling ... until I found a town with similar qualities in the sub-tropics, where I have now lived a lot longer. But I can still get nostalgic, as you see.
That is sooo clever, a "My Book of Days 2023". Being separated from the town of your youth comes hard, doesn't it. I try to keep up with my high school class, 48 graduated. There were eight that came to our Class of 1951 70th reunion. Just a very few didn't attend, I did not. Since then at least three more have died.
ReplyDelete..
I left – or was taken – at the age of 15, halfway through High School, and lost touch with most of my fellow-pupils too.
DeleteTrue fact: I was forced to change high schools half way through. (a tax issue between two districts.) Though it was devastating, a few of my friends made the switch, the others had parents who could afford the "tuition" .... I met my future husband and the father of our four children there! Happy ending. Though the marriage lasted only 22 years, he is one of my dearest friends/co-parent today..
DeleteI'm glad for your happy ending! As for the school thing, I was moved much farther away, interstate, which meant that I then went to a different university from my old schoolmates as well. However, that did turn out to be a very good thing in all sorts of ways.
DeleteI love the mood and crafting of this poem. Feels like a quiet sigh. I felt that kind of nostalgia writing my last interlude post on Chennai...
ReplyDeleteThat describes it well. And I got that from your post too.
DeleteI wonder if we ever can be separated from the memories of our beginnings and earliest environments. Seeing pictures of your childhood city even now with all the inevitable changes is a wonder, viewed from the distance of time.
ReplyDeleteI think probably we can't be separated from them, and I wouldn't want to be. It hasn't changed so very much – though it has, of course – because it is very enclosed by river and hills, with little room to expand.
DeleteYou have captured a beautiful, nostalgic memory with your words.
ReplyDeleteYour wish many years back of the road , now that you look back .....What a beautiful portrayal of feelings
ReplyDeleteThank you, Jossina.
DeleteLiving in the Northerm Rivers in Murwillumbah is a good choice for retirement....At least you are spared the johnny come latelys , movie stars etc in the Byron shire..so many of the original 7os folk have left. Nothing good lasts.......Rall
ReplyDeleteMur'bah is getting rather crowded lately, too! (I never go near Byron any more.)
DeleteIt's strange, isn't it, that one can still remember the places we grew up with after so many long years, when we cannot remember what we had for yesterday's lunch. I can still remember the old shanty town I grew up in, and it is now a container port.
ReplyDeleteYes, it seems they make an indelible imprint. It must be a bit weird to remember one which is now so altered!
DeleteThe poetry ~ beautiful beyond words, capturing the essence of the place you bloomed.
ReplyDeleteThank you, dear Helen!
DeleteYou never truly forget the towns of your youth. Going back can be bitter sweet though.
ReplyDeleteTrue. And true.
DeleteThis was me. Google keeps eating my passwords.
ReplyDeleteOh, it's been doing that to a lot of us lately! Thanks for letting me know. I need to put a note here, as I have on other blogs, reminding people to add their names if they're forced to post as Anonymous.
DeleteYour memories of Launceston are so vivid. There is such a yearning in every line. I understand that type of yearning too well--I miss the village where I grew up, would love to go back to it (in the time when I lived in it). But like your title suggests, we can't go home again...
ReplyDeleteNo. I have been back for visits since, and that's nice, but I no longer have familiarity and ownership.
DeleteI could visualize the scene as well as your angst!
ReplyDeleteThank you.
DeleteI haven't gone back to my home place in Brooklyn for awhile, but I plan to visit soon.
ReplyDeleteLove your poem, Rosemary.
Thank you. I hope you have a lovely visit, and that nostalgia is eased.
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