Secret Anniversaries of the Heart

Kept by ourselves in silence and apart;

The secret anniversaries of the heart,

When the full river of feeling overflows; Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Today while packing to move to our new home, I found a tin floral box of precious secrets and I couldn't resist looking at the treasures there. I unwrapped a faded corsage wrapped in yellow aged tissue paper with a note tucked inside of it. The note was from my mother, a sweet little thing she had written to me on my first communion over 40 years ago. It smelled of lavender and age, a mingling of delight and misty memory.

I was instantly transported back in time to that day, a warm July day. I had fallen and scrapped my knee when climbing out of a cherry tree. I ran into the kitchen where my mother was stirring blackberry jelly at a large black iron cookstove that occupied one corner of our old farmhouse. It had been in the family for many years, used mainly to keep the big old drafty kitchen warm in the wintertime. Mother insisted on using it in the summer for specific things, like controlling the heat under a jelly pot.

The kitchen was hot and as she turned, I saw her take the back of her hand and lift her auburn hair away from her face, brushing it back, she smiled at me, wooden spoon in one hand, blue gingham apron on, and red cheeks from the heat of the stove. She told me it was time to get cleaned up and changed for the First Communion Service that night. When I showed her my scrapped knee, she shook her head in sympathy. As I complained about having to get dressed for the "stupid catechism" she brushed my hair from my face, took my chin in her firm hand, tilted my head back and looked deep in my eyes.

"Are you afraid that growing up will mean you can't climb trees anymore." she asked me softly. I remember tears welling up in my eyes and nodding my head gently and I will never forget her answer. She smiled sweetly and pulling me close to her she whispered in my ear, her lips brushing softly against my cheek. "There will always be trees to climb, my dear. Now go put on your new dress."

There it is. Nothing sacred, nothing profound happened in that summer kitchen that day, but it is a secret anniversary of my heart. And as I held that faded corsage to my cheek today, I could see her standing there smiling; love, faith and hope for all I am and all I came to be in her eyes that day. I heard the reassurance in her voice that despite my growing body, my tomboy ways and my stubborn refusal to embrace being a woman, that I was okay, that the world was a good place for me and that there would always be trees to climb, happy days of summer to revel in.

The happy days unclouded to their close;

The sudden joys that out of darkness start

As flames from ashes; swift desires that dart

Like swallows singing down each wind that blows.

White as the gleam of a receding sail,

White as a cloud that floats and fades in air,

White as the whitest lily on the stream,

These tender memories are;--a Fairy Tale

Of some enchanted land we know not where,

But lovely as a landscape in a dream. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

We all have these precious anniversaries, those moments that we keep stored away in our hearts to shore us up when the world comes against us, when we doubt our ability to survive. It isn't the big flashy holidays with all the trimmings that make up these fleeting dreams. It is those moments when love and living came to us in pure joy.

I remember the first day of school when I was six. I can feel it in my heart, the excitement and anticipation, the smell of the school bus, the feel of the starched plaid dress scratching my thighs. There it is again. Jimmy Rogers and my first kiss behind the old fir tree at school. I smile and there I am beside him, nervous and shy, so excited I could die. I taste his lips upon mine, the pounding heart, the sweaty palms, the intensity of knowing I was a woman. And another, the moment my first child entered the world and the ecstasy of his existence,cuddled against my breast.. My heart became two sizes bigger in that instance.

There are more private anniversaries of the heart that only I would ever know of and for each of us it should be so. Keep those anniversaries in your heart and bring them out to celebrate in private, those moments when you knew you were alive and all things were possible in the world.

I adore holidays, those feast days, their trimmings and their trappings. But it is the secret anniversaries of my heart that keep me dreaming. You never know when one will come your way. You can't look for them, or plan them into existence. They just happen, but when they do, they are life changing moments, imprinted forever on your heart.