Juliet

Most people know who Juliet is, even those who don’t go to the theatre, 

The name has become a synonym for all the bright optimism, and headlong passion our golden youths when everything seems within reach and every sense is turned on high

I remember the vivid clarity of city parks in spring as I strode past them on my walk to school in the mornings as well as the sound and colour of fresh leaves as they shook in the warm wind of an ordinary day. I remember liking how well my body worked and how fast I could run. Music was brilliant, even food tasted better, emotions and feelings never stronger.

The thing is, I don’t think I’m unusual in the vividness of my memories — I suspect we can all summon these distant echoes though, of course, my parks and leaves, tastes and loves are different to yours. If we try, we can conjure up the magic of being young and hopeful which is why we don’t scold Juliet for her reckless plunge into life. We are on her side, faces toward the brightness of buoyant belief, and away from the inevitable crushing of the passion that gave her decisions flight.

The realist in me knows that Juliet is just a name like any other but the eternal youth in me perks up whenever I meet a Juliet, 

We hired a lovely young woman, described by one of the guests as “Botticelli-like”  to play her harp — yes, a harp! — at our house for a few friends in honour of the New Year.: our very own Juliet sitting by the window on a winter’s afternoon filling the house with such gentle beauty.

“ But, soft, what light through yonder window breaks?

It is the east, and Juliet is the sun."
(Romeo, Act 2 Scene 1)