Calendars were a vital fixture
On the thin walls of my childhood home
All information of any importance
Filled the daily squares, page after page

In the kitchen hung the Old Farmer’s Almanac calendar
A yearly gift from the bank
Telling us when to plant the corn and potatoes
When the first frost would come
And if it was a good day to fish

In the living room hung the telephone company calendar
With bright, beautiful pictures each month
According to the season or holiday
The blank squares were quickly filled
With birthdays and anniversaries of the whole family
Before it was even placed on the nail
Where it would remain for the year 

As days passed, other squares filled in
With appointments and events
Shots at the health department
Vacation Bible school, church Christmas play 
At year’s end, the calendars,
Well-worn and filled with mama’s neat handwriting,
We’re placed in a box to be kept
As a small, simple piece of family history 

Years later me and mama looked through
The box of old calendars
Mama picked up a calendar
And slowly turned the pages
Perhaps remembering

Then I saw a smile slowly appear
On Mama’s face and she laughed softly
She turned the calendar so I could see
July 23rd, in my mama’s handwriting
“It rained today”

A simple, yet curious 
Almost cryptic message 
It surely was important 
At one time
On that day
But the secret remains always
In the faded, yellowed pages