A memory.

            My earliest memory of writing is when I was in my early twenties. Although, I did enjoy writing  essays in my English exams when I was in college, writing  for someone other than my college professors, began a few years after college. I began maintaining a diary when I stepped into my twenties. But, writing serious stuff began a couple years later.
          When the heart is on its own romantic journey, and when all you think about is falling in love with that tall, dark, handsome guy, it is  writing love poems that takes  you by  storm. And, I, being a diehard romantic, took to writing little poems about finding my crazy, stupid love!
        I remember writing one such  poem and hesitantly showing it to mum, who had become a good friend after a  stormy relationship,  thanks to  my terrible teens. I whispered to her that I had attempted a poem, and would she give it a dekko?  I opened my diary to the page of the poem and hastened out of the room, blushing a deep red!
       My mum, being a sweetheart, read it and commented on it in writing, in her own sweet way. A gesture that has stayed in my heart to this day. Actually, that tiny gesture was what made me hope to be a mother like mine, to my own daughter some day!
        After that first attempt, I managed to write a few more of those poems. But then, life took over. I got a job, met my tall, dark, handsome guy and forgot all about writing poems. Well, the love letters I wrote to my fiancé kept me too  busy for those poems!

         Nearly twenty years later, I took up writing all over again, at the behest of a dear friend, who felt I had it in me to be a decent writer. So here I am, with my blog and my 211th post on  memories of my distant past.