R
Robert Harrison
Guest
A portrait in words.
For some thirty years, I have kept a journal, now numbering twenty-five.
The last entry was made January 23 2006 and started with the words,
“After a good nights sleep…” half way down page four hundred and
Thirty-five. A lot of pages you say? Maybe, but all of my other journals
Are of far less pages, about one hundred and eighty A4 sized.
Why do I keep a journal? Well, who will there be to remember me when I
Am gone? My children? Sometimes: maybe sometimes. How often do you
Think of your father, living or deceased? The last I thought of my father was
When I wrote a poem for him, but before that I couldn’t remember.
Therefore, I write to let my family know; no, not know, but to remind them
That I once existed as a real person. First as a child, then a youth full of adventurous
Dreams, and in later years as a husband, and as a father, responsible for their welfare.
I would like one of my children to be able to say, “This is my father, this is my fathers
Life, and I now know more of my father than ever I did when he was alive”.
I think this is why I keep a journal. I can tell my wife and children things that were
Locked away inside of me. Words that could not be said out load, but could be
Expressed more lovingly, more vividly, with deeper emotion in journals and indeed
In poetry. A journal allows one to think and record, all of those words that are
Never said at a time in ones life when they should have been. It is a portrait of oneself,
Painted in words, every detail faithfully recorded by the master painter.
Maybe, with care, my journals will live on, and through them so will I.
For some thirty years, I have kept a journal, now numbering twenty-five.
The last entry was made January 23 2006 and started with the words,
“After a good nights sleep…” half way down page four hundred and
Thirty-five. A lot of pages you say? Maybe, but all of my other journals
Are of far less pages, about one hundred and eighty A4 sized.
Why do I keep a journal? Well, who will there be to remember me when I
Am gone? My children? Sometimes: maybe sometimes. How often do you
Think of your father, living or deceased? The last I thought of my father was
When I wrote a poem for him, but before that I couldn’t remember.
Therefore, I write to let my family know; no, not know, but to remind them
That I once existed as a real person. First as a child, then a youth full of adventurous
Dreams, and in later years as a husband, and as a father, responsible for their welfare.
I would like one of my children to be able to say, “This is my father, this is my fathers
Life, and I now know more of my father than ever I did when he was alive”.
I think this is why I keep a journal. I can tell my wife and children things that were
Locked away inside of me. Words that could not be said out load, but could be
Expressed more lovingly, more vividly, with deeper emotion in journals and indeed
In poetry. A journal allows one to think and record, all of those words that are
Never said at a time in ones life when they should have been. It is a portrait of oneself,
Painted in words, every detail faithfully recorded by the master painter.
Maybe, with care, my journals will live on, and through them so will I.
