Scent of time

Note to husband, family members and relatives: Best to skip this one!

This week I was exchanging messages with a friend about our lives in our '20s. I was in New York, which I found magical and wildly exhilarating. My friends and I were out four or five nights a week, tasting the city's wonders; meeting interesting and exciting people from all over the world.

I told my friend that looking back, I feel tenderness for the young woman I was then - lost and trying so hard (in all the wrong ways) to find someone to count on; someone to love and trust; rather than settle for intrigue and lust.

It was a heady time, as I discovered my own strengths and endless possibilities beckoned. Powerful men came courting; men enchanted by a young woman who was more than just a pretty face; a woman who understood the art of conversation and whose enthusiasm and curiousity to learn more about the world struck a responsive chord.

Sometimes this young woman made the wrong choices; so intoxicated was she by the fascinating men issuing invitations. Sometimes she'd be having dinner at a top Manhattan restaurant with a diplomat, or an Italian hotel magnate, a Brazilian banker or a Kuwaiti businessman and wonder how on earth she got there - when the price of the dinner would have paid a month's rent and after a night of party-hopping, she would be too tired to finish even a glass of the $350 bottle of wine.

Once she met a Yugoslavian hockey player for the New York Rangers, who said he was taking her to a "disco" that turned out to be a lively polka parlor in Queens. An IBM executive invited her to go dancing at a "hot new club" which - quelle surprise - was the private sex emporium Plato's Retreat. An Englishman she'd just met at a business dinner said, "I must warn you, I snore."

Another time a television cameraman followed her home from the subway and got down on his knees next to a Woody Allen movie set and begged her to go out with him. A young Italian man regaled her with made-up stories about his life in the Mafia (sheer fantasy). A man who resembled a young Kirk Douglas, cleft in the chin and all, took her out to dinner and a movie. And when she wouldn't have anything further to do with him, phoned her obsessively and started stalking her.

Once a future Nobel Prize winner cooked dinner for her and took care of her when she was sick, always providing a sympathetic shoulder to lean on. An international political activist chased by the media shook off his guards and paid her a secret midnight visit.

Once a former jewel thief turned photographer to whom she was introduced at a downtown art gallery told her she was the kind of woman you could take anywhere in the world - from a funky dive to a palace. Once she had too much to drink and danced on top of the table at the Copacabana. A Boston CEO offered to set her up in an apartment; she declined. A Belgian hotel owner asked her to help write a public relations campaign. When she showed up at his office, he chased her around the room. When she ran from his office, all disheveled, a man in the lobby said, "How's tricks?" mistaking her for a prostitute. She cried all the way home on the subway.

A Lebanese poet wrote poetry for her. The Kuwaiti businessman who resembled the young Omar Sharif asked her to marry him and built a villa of beautiful peach stone, with marble floors. But when she saw it and understood his need to control; his possessive attitude, she realised she'd be a bird in a golden cage and bowed out. When they'd met in New York, she had been a fanciful girl, longing to be swept off her feet by true love, her head filled with romantic notions expressed in these excerpts of a poem the late Linda Goodman often quoted:

"...Two shall be born the whole wide world apart
and speak in different languages
and each pay no heed to the other's being.

"...O'er oceans they shall cross,
escaping wreck; defying death.

"...And unconsciously shape each wandering act
Until one day out of darkness,
they must meet
and read life's meaning in each other's eyes."

Thinking of that naive young woman with stars in her eyes, with all her expectations and hopes and dreams spilling over into unsatisfactory relationships, I was reminded of the first and only haiku I've ever written. I was 13, attending a two-week summer "MAD" (Music, Art and Drama) camp in a nearby town. Most of the participants were older than I; they seemed more worldly and experienced and even talked about romances -whether real or imagined, I never knew - with the drama instructor. I felt uncomfortable; I didn't fit in at all. But my Haiku won first prize:

"The mirror reflects
a nameless shapeless image.
Who is this lost child?"

Read more Poetry Thursday offerings here.

Photo of 19th-century French burled wood perfume and powder containers, along with original ivory-handled powder puff, remnants of powder and perfume.

Comments

[jordapeach]

FANTASTIC. I hope to encounter half of what you have. Workin on it! You are always such an inspiration to me, I don't tell you that enough (easier on paper)

[Maggie]

Wow. This was one of the best posts I've ever read...I admire you so very much.

[paradise]

how rich a post!

your 20s were so grand, so many interesting encounters and extraordinary adventures.
now you know you simply must post a photo of yourself from then! ;-)

your haiku speaks volumes within its three simple lines. it's beautiful.

your daughter must be so lucky to have a mum like you, a mum who knows what it was like to be wide-eyed with wonder in a big new city, but also understands how lost a young girl must feel during those lonely times when the same world that was so exciting and glittering the night before becomes cold and lonely only moments after.

[susan]

I think that when we are true to our hearts, we always win First Prize.

It's satisfying to know that you found just what you were looking for :-)

[La Page Française]

Wow. This post just blew me away.

Now that's what I call living life to the fullest.

(Actually, that is evident not just from this post alone, but from your blog in general!)

[Catalina]

I know already you are an intelligent wonderful person, but tell me: are you as well a n astonishing beauty? ;)

I love your Haiku as well! I like mirrors very much not to llok at me, but to "see" hat it is inside......Once I wrote that:

"There was a mirror, where everybody looked themselves like they wanted to be....so they were like that, like they saw themselves"

well....in spanish sounds better......:)

[Hundred and one]

How exciting your 20's sound.
Ah, to regain a bit of that excitement now *sigh*

[Dona Bogart]

You wrote this at 13 yrs old and it leaves a very strong impression now. I liked.
I wished you would set up a separate blog so that we can hear elaborations on your adventures. Your adventures would be very interesting to read. A memory blog.

[Robert Bruce]

Your husband must be one hell of a man.

[Linda]

I can hardly remember myself in my 20's. I was very shy, unsure of myself, afraid of men. I had no inner strength. I am much happier as I am now-in command of my life, full of enthusiasm, looking at many men with a little contempt-except for my really great husband-and I truly don't care what people think of me. It took a long time to reach this point. Maybe I should have gone to NYC when I was young!

[tinker]

We search for true love; but it often eludes us until we know our true selves. The haiku you wrote as a girl was lovely and profound. I could feel the wistful yearning. This post was captivating, Tara - thank you for sharing this.

[Mary Jane]

Your 20's were filled with many interesting days and evenings...our memories make us who we are today...you were an inspired child...talent is expressed early in life...just the best...

[krista]

You know what I loved about this short story? We get to know this girl, who is moving where ever the wind blows her, letting life chase her rather than taking the wheel- we get to feel the ephemeral nature of her existence.

Yet, it is narrarated from a more stable place, a place of maturity. A place of retrospect.

At the very end when we read the poem the girl (you) wrote at 13, there is this feeling, that the true core, and the true nature of YOU is always there- unchanged. At 13, you described in a 5-7-5 poem, the destiny of your youthful years.

Beautiful post.

[diana]

Holy Moly ! Loved the story and the haiku... you must write a book someday !
I had so much fun just reading about your experiences... cant imagine how much fun you must have had !

[kristen]

What a wonderful post and photo. Thank you.

[liz elayne]

there are books to be written about the stories in this post my dear...

and your haiku. at 13 you were asking a similar question to the one i asked in the poem i wrote, at 29, yesterday. love this. the question never really changes i think.
thank you for sharing all of this today.

[amystery]

Wow, your twenties were certainly a whirlwind of experiences. I love that in many ways your 13 year old self would capture how you would reflect on those years.

[Jeanne]

Love how you integrated the haiku into a greater story. I have been musing on my more worldly, yet often times less satisfying, youth lately so I really identified with what you wrote.

[Tongue in Cheek]

Oh la la, tell me how do you walk after flying so high! Do tell more, kiss and tell?
I was caught up in the romance, so your poem brought some other feelings behind all the glamour. Aren't we all in search for our true desire! I know you have found yours!

[Catherine]

That's a lovely haiku. I married at 20 and lived a very settled life. Yours seems amazing!

[Rosa]

You have lived a full life. Beautiful.

[Tammy]

Such a fun time you had! You are so very interesting and I would love to hear more :) That haiku was very profound for one so young.

HUGS

[Kara]

Wow, I knew you were worldly but now I have a new picture of how you came to be this worldly wonder. I've been over to visit and read your blog lately - but sorry have not commented. By the way, I loved your writing desk area - inspirational! Your haiku is pithy especially so for a 13 yr old.

[amber]

I KNEW you had stories to tell! It would be worth the plane ticket across the water, just to sit and listen to you talk about your life! LOL. That's it. I'm onmy way...
(As soon as I do the dishes. Ha!)

:)

[deirdre]

Holy smokes, what adventures! I have to tell you, that wasn't like my 20's at all. hehe You have such great stories to tell.

[Neil]

I'll have to read this haiku again, because I was paying much attention. I was still mesmerized by all this attention you got in New York. Dipomats! Nobel prize winners! I bet you are still as glamorous now...

[Annie]

Ah Tara, when you are a very old woman you will have so much to look back on and you will smile secret smiles. But then some young thing, noticing the dreamy inward smile, will coax the secret out and you will tell your stories yet again.

[vicci_ann]

I love the poem...I love "who is this lost child".....

[jennifer]

your haiku says so much in so few words...