‘…but child of dust,the fragrant flowers, the bright blue sky,
Were strange conductors to the places your dancing footsteps must have trod…’
There are similarities; there were three of them for a start, three sisters, Emily, Anne and Charlotte. Emily the youngest of the three sisters as I was. Their first joint publication only sold two copies and Emily died only a year after publication of Jane Eyre, in its time considered wildly passionate as were her poems.
I have slightly paraphrased the above quote but this gave me a title for my next full length novel. As of now in hastily hand written note form it is based on our own childhood and upbringing and the indelible impact this had on all our lives. This is no biography, although I am fully prepared to accept that it will be the book that most writers are accused of at least once; that of having recounted their own story. It will however, be rich in landscapes familiar to me still after all the years passing; the fragrant flowers the bright blue skies of childhood. The irony, as was Emily’s, of life conducting her in the end to the invention of Rochester, of that for me, most masterful and magnificent story of romantic love .Surely this can only be a product of her own unfulfilled destiny?
A child of dust; in the end lost opportunities , and the wealth of our collective potential going unrealized. Unless we uncover the secret of life nothing but our dust remains. We may not be published, only sell two copies, only be discovered too late. The important thing perhaps in the end will be all the places in between our dancing footsteps must have trod.