THE SECRET By Margaret Moreton.
There is something in us all that loves a secret; we feel special, cared for, important even at having something, one day, to divulge.
She was taking an exploratory, speculative survey of her garden in the early weeks of the year, letting her mind range over the needs and promises of the coming seasons. She looked at her cluster of hyacinth bulbs. She had wondered, when she planted them what would develop – and now, there appeared just a hint, in the thick, short green shoots of what was to come in good time. She figured that the wholesome bulb was beginning to awaken and thus to reveal its secret – a beautiful harvest for all to see. In the peacefulness of this familiar place, a sudden thought coursed through her brain – may be, just may be, there may be another harvest ripening in the Autumn.
She spoke in the silence of her aloneness to those she had loved and lost, long since – told of her supreme gladness at this unexpected realisation. This new life would be a friend, an ally; a sparring partner to the other family members. She wondered, with them large in her heart, what reactions would evolve – but she was sure she knew. She pondered this pledge, this fruit of a life-times love; this being to be part of a rich inheritance of love, but ‘for now’ she said ‘just mine to contemplate and marvel at.’ Soon, she would share this excess of love with its creator, and together soon they would shout from the roof-tops of the secret that they had shared.
She was needed in field and garden and playground and kitchen and she swathed herself in her old, familiar heavy apron – it would mask the first tentative wideness of the future and it would keep her secret for another week or two. She counted her blessings that though she had much to do in the business of living, she was given this supreme privilege and joy of sharing in creation. This was not the first time she had known such joy, such wonder and such hope – her exultation had not diminished in any way and it put a gentle, deep smile on her face. She had trodden this road before and well-knew its surprises and snares and its hopes and joys. She wanted to share her secret with its giver, but wait a while – just a day or two more to rest content at its promise. In her heart she knew that there was a reason for this coming blessing. When that reason would be apparent she knew not – it may not be clear to the world but it would be – she was sure that she knew…
An Autumn coming – how truly apt it seemed, in tune with the ripeness and fullness of nature. She had enjoyed the private and personal thoughts which the coming new life afforded her and she knew so well the nurture that she would provide, but now, now was the time to share this joy and contemplation with her soul-mate, with he who launched its being. There was room in her heart for anything they achieved together , but this, once again was aeons beyond the mundane and the matter-of-fact; this was a so very special secret unmasked.
Retwords 