A metaphor can catch what descriptions and words and graphics cannot, and within an instant, give light in prisms to everything words and thoughts and feelings couldn't describe. And with its use, all becomes perfectly clear, that idea in a vision, with use of metaphor now captures and symbolize the context of the whole. Like an epiphany, a lyrical breakthrough, a release to the known.
A music box with its sacred secrets, is this relationship, Camilla and I. And so much of that, is what makes it special. It's our secrets, our treasure, our intimate mixture of notes and sharps and flats that only she and I know. The simile speaks so strongly, it makes me feel the sounds and whispers and sighs and screams, the moments of crescendo or chorusing symphony. There is something so intricate, so intimate, that it captures this quiet glory, this treasured mundane, this soft sparkle that fills up my days.
One other person may hold the box -- Mark, her daddy, my love. He has the key, the shelf, the access, to see, to ask, to hear our sounds. It's private contents revealed to him, a glimmer of his girls inside. With gentleness too, he cranks it, churning the music, giving courage and life to what's inside. Even still, what he holds is only part of the whole, for really, only she and I know...
Others beg entry at times, in spaces. We bare little music to public display, but personal eyes may gingerly peer, given moments in story, pictures, or hours of the day. Yet careful, mindful, of protecting the music, I intentionally compose each note; for the best music is kept hidden, as only she and I know.
Like soft music or dancing diddles, we rainbow the air, we pause in the rest. This little treasure, this music box, is a sacred gift from Heaven to us.
"And Mary treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart."
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** My friend Amy and I had a beautiful conversation during engagement about marraige and hedges, and growing a secret garden in it. This has flowered for me through the years as I grow borders and encase my marraige, my family, my home, with boundaries. Like a secret garden, at times others can peer in, enjoy, and be part of the green spaces, but without the hedges and tall vines of protection, it gives way to weeds and thorns and strangers unwelcomed. Growing these hedges gives love by boundaries, providing safety and romance and time in that space. That's what the garden, what marraige, was meant for. As this expands with Camilla and our home and family, the music box seems to capture the same concept, eclipsing protection and intimacy and joy and peace for the privacy and personhood of the people designed for this space, in concrete and illusive ways.
** Contrasting enough, even as writing these words, I started sharing our moments, our secret mundane... Then paused, re-read, re-wrote, and took out our secrets.... We know we danced like two old lovers, quiet but the hum of my voice on her chest; her leaned in, sweaty with burnt hands and tears, and I held in gentle and long-loving sway.... We know those conversations over turkey and avacado, the tickling things we say and do all day.... We know the silliness of swimming in shorts, and poking puddles in the rain.... We know the smell of morning coffee and the way to make a scrunchie face.... But these secrets, to her and I, they remain....
