Everyone in the house was still asleep. As I sat in my living room drinking my first coffee of the day, I could identify every sound that came through the window. The best part of living in the same place your whole life is knowing things feel right even if they don’t to everyone else around you.
This year the Blue Jays are back. For a long time, they went away, and it felt as though they’d never return. Yet this fall they showed up again here and there one or two at a time. Their return surprised me and brought a wonderful sense of order and restoration with it.
They were here all through my childhood. “Look! A Blue Jay,” one of us kids would tell the others with glee. They’re not especially beautiful. Nor do they sing beautifully. Still I’d missed them and wondered where they’d all gone.
Honestly, they don’t stir me the way a Red Cardinal with its bold scarlet mantel and cap of bright feathers does or captivate me with the coordinated flight formation patterns of a lot of other winged creatures. Still the wild and untamed Blue Jay has an unpredictability in his nature that I like. “I’m back,” he communicates wordlessly. “Don’t get too used to me being here. If I decide to go I will.”
The Blue Jay reminds me of my mother’s outspoken Aunt Rose
who could show up without notice or invitation and be greeted as if we had been
expecting her to arrive at that very minute even though she lived in
Florida. She was independent,
self-confident and extremely resilient.
Her eyes a beautiful shade of icy blue stood out against her white hair
and brown skin. Even at 80 she swam laps
in her condo’s pool every morning. That
may not sound very remarkable, but she only had one arm. When she was diagnosed with breast cancer,
they removed her arm as well. Her
prosthetic arm was made of wood and the hand was covered with a white glove at
all times. She never stopped driving,
sewing, typing or flying either.
Yvonne A.
Nov. 2020
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