December 21, 1961
My dad works nights, so he's not home to size up my dates. After I introduce Will to Mom and Grandma, this congenial young man helps me on with my coat, and slings my skates over his shoulder while making small talk with my family as I'm busily buttoning up, zipping my boots, pulling my soft, warm hat over my hair and ears, and slipping my hands into mittens in preparation to greet the cold waft of air, which sweeps, uninvited, into the foyer as soon as the front door is opened when we're ready to depart for the pond.
Though I'd shoveled the walkway, earlier in the day, the sidewalk leading to the curb proves icy, so Will holds me steady as we make our way to the car Since we're doubling with a couple, whom I've yet to meet, Will, being a well mannered young man, opens the back door of the car with one hand while continuing to hold onto me until I'm seated safely on the seat directly behind a girl, whose name I can't remember any more than I can name Will's friend, who starts the car and pulls away from the curb as soon as Will slides into the seat next to mine, and the four of us are off.
Memory proves to be a mysterious thing in that I can recall every detail about the outfit I'd chosen to wear on my first date with Will but not a thing about the couple with whom we'd skated under the stars on that crisp Midwestern, Saturday night. I mean, it's not as if the ice was crowded—in fact, we four proved to be the only brave souls who'd chosen to skate neath the star studded sky after the sun had bowed to the moon. Maybe, I can't recall so much as one detail about either of them for two reasons: It was dark in the car. Dark, while Will twirled me round and round the pond in the park, where naught could be heard but skate blades, swishing across the ice while peals of laughter sliced through the silence, filling the night air with such a bright glow of merriment as to leave no room for fear to darken so much as one corner of my brain, which felt all warm and snug, safe and happy within my hat.
Then there's reason number three: Though the future finds us doubling with many of Will's friends, I have no memory of seeing that particular boy or girl, ever again. For all I know, that night could have been their first date, or perhaps, their last.
Memory, concerning personal impressions, suggests that I'll remember this while you'll remember that. Or perhaps life offers me reason to fear one thing while you have reason to fear another. Then there are times when anxiety strikes, and deeper truth suggests we know not which unidentified memory jogged a fear that we've no clue is still raw behind a wall of denial …
Here's another reason that makes me wonder about mysteries inherent to memory: I mean, why do certain memories linger, holding fast to our hearts—like memories of Will gathering me close in dancer-hold, twirling me around the rink so masterfully as to bolster my spirit with the confidence to follow his lead without fear of falling flat on my face or my buns? As Will's self confident stance proved contagious, his positive attitude reassured the girl in his arms (whose negative attitude had undermined my self confidence when any sport came to mind), of reviving my natural ability to cast fear of failing aside in order to fully enjoy the pleasures of skating gracefully around the ice on that star-studded night—though dark memories, stored subconsciously, remain deeply repressed, to this very day ... suggesting memory to be a highly complicated machine.
I mean, why does memory of merriment prove so vivid when memories, pulsing with violence, pale to the point of offering me no hint of that which had traumatized the innocent mind of a vulnerable, dark haired, blue eyed child until fairly recently when a surge of courageous readiness to confront my past began to emerge from my subconscious, which, in cahoots with intuition, has been coaxing my conscious mind to muster the courage to absorb one shrouded detail at a time, though each detail causes haunting chills to run down my spine? And if you ask what may have catalyzed such a courageous change in my self confident stance, I'd reply: I'm not sure what caused such a leap of faith. But I can tell you when life challenged me to place my faith in intuition, guiding my path toward healing subconscious pain as never before: An experience sparked my power of intuition to challenge my self confidence to spread its wings during the heat of summer a couple of years back ...
Horoscopes:
Know that your mind proves to be a complex machine, which functions in mysterious ways
Know that your responsibility to yourself is to minimize anxiety caused by fear of failure
While others enjoy their leisure, you'll hold a hefty plate of unfinished work in your hands. It's not that you didn't plan well, it's that you recognize that life offers you more that makes you happier than a round of golf
Some of what you were taught is just plain wrong … you can see that, now. You're not sure what to do, but you'll figure it out and create a new model
So what if you've been practicing getting it right for years, you're still learning and if there's one thing you're not, it's jaded
The person who smells the flowers appreciates the pleasures of life—but not quite as much as the person who stops to plant the flowers, nurturing the patience that proves necessary while buds of love develop the readiness to bloom
You'll look for the moral of the story and draw conclusions that are correct, because you distill information to its essence
You'll be warmly embraced by those you love and admire, because when you win, they will, too
Time and again, my eyes open wide in awe of the mysterious ways that life offers up miracles, which delight my heart more than words can say ...
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