There is a place where, after the rush of the morning’s routine, the sun settles high in the sky and it’s rays reach down, inviting me to come and sit. Day-by-day, month-by-month, year-by-year, each morning I have sat in this place and have soaked in the sun’s warmth as I witness seasons unfold. At first I would bow my head low, holding my breath knowing what I would see out of the window would leave me longing for the innate moments and aching for her sweet small voice, her giddy laughter, her delight and awe of the unique beauty unfolding before us. By the time I felt I could lift my face, I would encounter a season in full swing and would breathe deep knowing a new season was surely on the horizon. Season-by-season I danced a hesitant dance.
Day-by-day, month-by-month, year-by-year, I have sat in this place and over time, the warmth of the sun has soothed my soul and spoken truth into my heart. This particular morning was no exception. I sat in my place, mesmerized by a flock of bluebirds fluttering between the limbs- a multitude of creatures busy readying for whatever the day would bring. And while this was a scene typical of a March morning- this particular morning the presence of the birds was unmistakable against the backdrop of a white blanket of snow- the birds could simply not be denied. And as it always seems to be in these moments, I am transported back to when she would full sprint the yard to join the flock of robins or beckon us to her window to hear melody of the spring bird’s songs. For the first time since she died, I sat in this place and watched the birds scurry without diverting my eyes. In that quiet, it dawned on me- she would have sat in this place. She would have loved the sun that streams in and warms and would have delighted knowing from this perch she could encounter theirs. I breathe deep in the realization and know that day-by-day, month-by-month, year-by-year, it is in this place that she is with me.