Gift to Oneself

It was by choice that I spent my 30th birthday alone that day. I didn’t want to share it in celebration with others. I’m not sure of the reason that this day, turning 30, just made me feel different. I spent that October day, alone, wandering in and out of small shops in the city. It was a warm, sunny, autumn day, my favorite time of year. I took my time, reading history by the capital building; I toured a museum, taking note of everything surrounding me. It had a large carriage coach in the middle of the building. Long marble halls and art displays.

I had lunch in a small park, between buildings. Sitting upon the granite stones placed around a huge water fountain. I people watched. I visited the library and I piled books into my arms to look through. Finding a comfortable place to read, I sat there till near dark, looking through book after book.

Between the pages of one book, was a hand written poem on a piece of paper. I read it once and then again. I read it over and over. Though, here I had books upon books before me on poetry, this one poem was fitting. There was something about it which I just could not put down. I put the paper in my pocket and now hurried to get home before it got too dark.

For the past 23 years, I have read that poem many times. I still hold it near. It is dear to me and meaningful. There are times, when just out of the blue, that poem comes to my mind and it has crossed my mind many, many times. I find it most beautiful in its meaning.

Since that day 23 years ago, upon my 30th birthday which I first found this poem, I have seen it many other places. It is not unknown. Yet, to me for whatever reason, it was a gift to discover. Happy Birthday to me.

After A While

After a while, you learn the subtle difference
Between holding a hand & chaining a soul,

And you learn that love doesn’t mean leaning
And company doesn’t mean security,

And you begin to learn
That Kisses aren’t contracts
And Presents aren’t promises.

And you begin to accept your defeats
With your head up and your eyes open,

With the grace of a woman,
Not the grief of a child.

And you learn to build all your roads on today
Because tomorrow’s ground is too uncertain
For plans, and futures have a way of falling
down in mid-flight.

After awhile you learn that even sunshine
Burns if you get too much.

So you plant your own garden and decorate
Your own soul, instead of waiting
For someone to bring you flowers.

And you learn that you really can endure…
That you really are strong
And you really do have worth.

And you learn and you learn…

With every goodbye..You learn.

© 1971..Veronica A. Shoffstall.