Tuesday, April 19, 2011
I love you, Sara!
Yesterday evening—sitting outside on the front porch with my husband—was pervaded by Sara's beautiful being. There were an unusual number of birds singing and flying in a joyful display all around us. A large robin chirping in my favorite tulip tree flew to another tree across from me and sang and sang a song I distinctly felt was the earthly echo of Sara assuring me she was all right, more than that. I imagined her inhabiting the birds for the sheer joy of experiencing their physical energy and agility now that she'd finally been freed from her body's prison. We saw a genuine blue bird for the first time, a rare and stunning sight. The sun was setting in such a way it was not so bright you couldn't look toward the west, luminously swathed in diaphanous clouds like the scarves I remember Sara loved to wear. Toward the end a smoldering orange, the solar disc glowed between black branches like an enchanted Halloween pumpkin, and Sara's sense of humor became the very atmosphere as out of nowhere a humming bird appeared, paused directly in front of us, then zoomed westward. We glanced at each other in awe because we've never seen a humming bird up here before. Even my husband, who never met Sara, felt as though she had just said, “Honeee! I'm here! And I'm fine, really!"