Comes the Dawn

Just the other day I was going through my closet, looking for something. You know how this goes after you hit the age of 50, right? You start looking for one thing and find something else and get so totally sidetracked that you never even remember what it was you were originally looking for, right? 

So, I was looking for a shoe. I figured it might be in my closet. I may never know, because every time I go to my closet for something.... Anyway, at the back of my closet is a metal lock-box. I don't have a key for it so I hope it never actually gets locked. I don't even know where the box came from but it seems like I've had it forever. The box is stuffed full of the past.

There are a few photographs in there, and I can't figure out why they're in there instead of with the other photos in the house, but there they are. There's a copy of my high school newspaper from my freshman year. I know why that's there - that was the year Marty (now my husband) graduated from our high school and there's a list in it of where everyone from his class was going to college. I figured at the time that I'd never see him again as he headed off to Bryant College in Rhode Island. 

There's a copy of the high school paper from my senior year as well. And a program from my graduation ceremony. There are a couple of very thin diaries from the years just after I left high school - full of angst over the loves of my teen years. 

And, there are the letters. Tons of them. Some from as far away as England. Old love letters from years gone by, old postcards from old friends I haven't seen in a million years... I've been dragging this box around for thirty years. I rarely open it or even think about it, but it moves from home to home with me, over and over again. And it always winds up in the back of my closet.

I came across an old piece of paper in it this time that I didn't even realize I still had. When I was in high school I had an English teacher named Mr. Ginty. He was a real character and students either loved him or hated him. He was also my Driver Ed instructor and I imagine I wore his ears out crying about this boy or that boy the whole time we were in the car. I had crushes on pretty much every guy in school. So one day he handed me this piece of paper with a poem on it. I read it and reread it over and over again and cried my little teenage heart out. 

And then I stuck it in the box. 

Comes The Dawn

After a while you learn the subtle difference,
Between holding a hand and chaining a soul.

And you learn that love doesn’t mean leaning,
And company doesn’t mean security.

And you begin to learn that kisses aren’t contracts,
And presents aren’t promises.

And you begin to accept your defeats,
With your head up and your eyes open,
With the grace of a woman, not the grief of a child.

And you learn to build all your roads on today,
Because tomorrow’s ground is too uncertain for plans,
And futures have a way of falling down in mid-flight.

After a while you learn,
That even sunshine burns if you get too much.

So you plant your garden and decorate your own soul,
Instead of waiting for someone to bring you flowers.

And you learn that you really can endure…

That you really are strong,
And you really do have worth,
And you learn and learn,
With every goodbye you learn.