Ever wonder why someone does or doesn’t notice you? Remember those days on the playground when all you wanted was the cool girl to say something nice to you? Invite you to sit with her at lunch.
A month ago, I happened to stumble upon the first short story I wrote as a teenager. While it was written in the 3rd person, it was really a story about me and things like the cars I dreamt of owning someday; and the Jung Frau Joch – a mountain in Switzerland I’d fallen in love with while my family traveled through Europe on vacation.
That day when my family visited the Jung Frau, I ran ahead of my mom and dad and brother – they were speaking English and I didn’t want to be “noticed” as an American. When I came to rest at the top of a rise, I marveled at the expanse of green meadow dotted with Alpine flowers stretching out before me, and the jagged peaks of the Jung Frau in the distance. I knew with certainty in that moment there is a God. That presence has stayed with me my entire life; so much so I want my ashes tossed into the wind on that meadow someday. Better go back and find it.
When I found my three page short story (By Myself), I was stunned by my writing. Not bad I thought. This is good. Although,… the piece could use some edits. When I finished reading the piece the thought that came to mind was, “why didn’t anyone notice that I had potential to be a writer?” I was a lost teenager when I wrote this piece. One who wanted to be noticed and didn’t know how to notice herself. Over the years I’ve asked myself, “isn’t it your parents or your teachers who are supposed to notice you and the things you are passionate about as a child in order to help point you in the direction of your dreams? Why did my mother point me in the direction of interior design when I was an editor on my school newspaper?
Who knows why no one noticed? I have a million reasons and excuses for the oversight. But does it matter anymore? Or is it more important that one day several years ago I noticed the writer in me and began writing?