Sometime in December, I found myself browsing the shops downtown… a rare and special escape. I was wandering around one of my favorite galleries and came across a little bowl full of wooden hearts.
Now when I was a kid, I didn’t like hearts. Too girlie. No i’s dotted with hearts in my name thank you very much. I did have a favorite rainbow heart shirt that I remember wanting to wear every day, but I think that spoke more to my second grade love of rainbows…
Now these hearts, these hearts were different. They were smooth and warm and like a perfect pebble. They called out to be held tight in the palm of my hand. On a whim, I chose a big one for James and a matching littler one for myself.
Since then, these two little pocket hearts have carried us through a lot of hard days. Hospital rooms. Terrifying tests. Lobbies. Long car rides. Rooms full of huge machines and laser beams. Hundreds of miles and weeks of nights alone. Through endless days of waiting and hours of praying. They’ve protected us and connected us. A comforting little reminder that we’re co-captains of Team James and the huge crowd of teammates behind us.
James’ heart is now kind of indigo, as one would expect from the Baron of Blue Jeans, the Sultan of Selvedge. Mine has a warm patina from hours of centering all of my positive thoughts and energy and love. We still carry our little pocket hearts on especially important days. Otherwise they’re at home. In a dish next to my alarm clock, by James’ keys, on the sunny windowsill above the kitchen sink. A gentle and reassuring reminder of what matters.
We are so deeply grateful to have the love and support of so many friends and family. Thank you from the bottom of our hearts.