Seeing the Signs

I’m always looking for signs. Except when I’m not, which makes them all the more poignant and undeniable.

Case in point, the one year anniversary of my grandfather’s passing recently came and went on March 13th, bringing with it the anticipated mix of sadness and reflection that these milestones tend to create. Back on that day, one year ago, shortly after learning the devastating news, I stared blankly out my sliding glass door at the tree directly in front of my apartment, only to be met with the gaze of one solitary robin. Sitting. Staring. 

I must have stood at that door for a solid half hour, mesmerized by this tiny bird, alone in a barren tree, his eyes fixated on me. Was it a sign? Was it just a matter of ironic timing? Who knows… I chose to find solace in the serenity of the moment, comfort in the quiet.

A month later, we discovered a nest of four perfect robin’s eggs at my grandparents’ house, the first of its kind in that backyard, ever. We marveled at how it seemed to literally drop out of the sky at a most opportune moment, manifesting out of thin air, a precious symbol that life does, in fact, go on. 

Fast forward to last week. I ran quickly to the store for a bunch of roses to bring to the cemetery, knowing that the impending “blizzard” and freezing temperatures would most likely destroy them in a matter of hours. As I headed back to the car, a sign for birdseed caught my eye. And then, it hit me. Suddenly, I heard chirping. Loud, incessant chirping. I turned around, searching for the source… and there it was, a single, solitary robin, sitting on the top of the pile. 

Some signs, you just don’t see coming. 


{Published: March 22nd, 2017}

Jamie Lynn RyanComment