Secret Sunshine!

(Write a story that either starts or ends with someone asking, “Can you keep a secret?”)

I will begin by asking you as a group if you can keep a secret?   Once spoken, it is typical that a secret ceases to be a secret as each recipient of the secret feels they  “must” share it with one best friend or confidant, somehow they feel compelled to whisper your secret to at least one other.  And so practically,  anything you share with another probably will grow legs and take on a mind of it’s own.   

There are many reasons secrets must be kept secret but what kind of feelings do secretes evoke?  

If you are planning a surprise birthday party or other pleasant surprise, then the secret is just to keep the information under raps until the big moment and then the feelings may be happiness or excitement.

But it has been my experience that the main reason for hiding information is fear of disapproval or discovery.  Fear?  Actual fear?  Well at least in your own mind, you have convinced yourself that your friends or loved ones would never understand your actions or motives.

So after asking, “Can you keep a secret?”  I will tell you mine!

I am known in my circle of friends and loved ones as a cold fish.  I am practical, analytical and boring.  I am unemotional to a fault and so this “thing” that happened to me was totally out of character.  So much so, I become embarrassed here and now, just thinking about it.  I rarely cry at weddings or funerals, but babies can sometimes create misty eyes.

Now I will tell you another story that is so full of emotion, it becomes the other extreme.   And I’ve kept it a secret not from fear but because of embarrassment.

Early in our married life,  having decided that I would stay home and raise our sons,  we became a one wage earner family so money was never plentiful,  we never wanted for anything but there were few extras.   And so it was that I frequented thrift stores in search of books.    

I loved reading historical fiction mainly,  a good story based mostly on facts, not the typical romance novels most of my friends read.  To me romance novels were cookie cutter,  the same premise over and over, he was handsome and she was beautiful, and one was rich and the other poor but in the end, yep,  the walk, ride or run off into the sunset.  So this being said, you should quickly see why I kept this book as a secret.

On this day,  while browsing the paperbacks,  I came across this thin book,  bound in ivory leather with the look of something very special.   Opening it carefully, as it had a feel of age to it, I saw it was a love poem.   Slipped in among the gilt edged pages was the original gift card.   

“In this little booklet,

Each word and line,

Tells of my love for you,

Dear friend of mine!”

Lake Worth,  FL.       Dec.21, 1918

I stood there in the dusty gloomy shelves of the thrift store reading the poem and the card.  Tears flooded my eyes.   So touching,  so poignant,  two long forgotten people sharing a love through this tiny book.   The words so tender, so private,  telling of feelings never to be forgotten,  voices, sounds, memories.   Tears ran down my cheeks.   I then remembered where I was and tried to get myself together.  I reread it several times each time crying harder as I anticipated lines and imagined the lovers.

My next emotion was anger.....yes,  anger.   I could see a person keeping this love tome for decades only to have someone toss it out to the thrift store.   If I felt the emotion,  the love, then why not a son or daughter or even a grandson or granddaughter,  rescue this lovely thing,  so small,  tuck it away again somewhere,  protect it,  save it!  I stood reading it over again and again,  each time more emotional.   Such a love,  the kind we all dream of,  discarded!   Of course I had to buy it,  and I did.

Bringing it home I tried to explain it to my husband,  why I felt the need,  why this book needed rescue.   I could relate to some of the lines from my own life experiences but on the whole,  it just seemed wrong to disrespect this love,  I felt I could feel the love coming from the card,  from the pages.  My husband scratched his ear and said, “so what’s the punch line?”  “This isn’t like you at all!”

That is when I knew I must keep it a secret as my friends would laugh me off the planet.

I would take it out occasionally and renew my own love affair with this book.   Reading the lines. Seeing the old parchment pages,  knowing the time gone.  It then occurred to me that I am not young,  I could slip away at any time leaving this book unprotected and my husband did not understand it at all and I could not see any of my sons understanding this either. Who could protect this book?

One of the lines in the poem.....”when you and I owned all the sunshine in the sky” reminded me of a very special day in my own life.  I was with a special friend , we had been walking over the moors and had stopped, pulled off our shoes and put our feet in a bubbling brook, the water so cold and refreshing.  Yes,  I felt we owned all the sunshine in the sky that day, he and I, so I decided to mail the book to this friend,  telling him how precious I felt it was and entrusting it to him and begging him to treat it gently.

It is gone from me now,  in my heart I feel it is safe but I doubt anyone could feel the connection I felt except of course the lovers,  if they were in fact lovers,  perhaps just the dearest of friends,  I will never know!   

I still often wonder if the book is safe and I fear if I ask my friend outright he may have misplaced or lost it and I will be broken-hearted.

And so,  the opinion of me held by my own group may be a bit inaccurate,  but this story doesn’t really put things to right either, I do feel that my emotional wiring is not quite to spec!  Maybe a funny way to say it but as good as any!  

I would love to understand why this tiny book impacted me so strongly but if I could have it back, right now, today, I “know” I would stand and cry.  Cry for the lovers from long ago whose words ended up in a thrift store and maybe cry for myself as I will never be able to enjoy such tender feelings again.