Bluejay 2

Last week I wrote of my therapist’s grandiose desire for me to glean three blog posts from our session. I could only come up two. I also told you that she believed a bluejay I saw in my yard was my deceased friend. I have to admit, it would not be wrong to say a bluejay is just a bluejay - like I did to my therapist. It might be shortsighted though. When I got halfway through writing last week's blog post, I began to rethink the bird’s significance and the possibility that my therapist may be right. Maybe my deceased friend, Chris, really came to tell me he’s ok as a bluejay. But what was the significance of the bluejay to our friendship?

I must let you know I believe in such things. Signs from people, God, or the ether that everything is OK. In my lifetime I have seen it over and over. People finding signs in the form of shared experiences, symbols and objects. I hold these close to my heart, though I might tell you one or two over a glass of Cabernet Franc. Believe me the stories are worth you buying me a glass of wine.

There are skeptics and nonbelievers out there saying that this is my creation to make myself feel better. They might say I am taking an everyday occurrence in projecting onto my deceased friend just to facilitate my grief.

First off, no! Second off, don't be so quick to judge. If you really want to know why I believe, I already told you buy me a glass of wine and you will see why I believe this bluejay was not like your everyday bluejay.

In the middle of writing last week’s blog and reviewing in my head my therapist suggesting that the bluejay was my friend, I remembered something. About six years ago Chris help me move my son from Arizona to Oregon. While in Oregon, we went on a hike along a river. It was cold and the trail was icy. There was snow on the hillsides, and the air was crisp and clean.  We had to be careful because of the frozen trail.

Near the trailhead we noticed a majestic blue heron sitting on a rock in the middle of the river. As we hiked up the trail, the large bird with the lengthy wingspan would fly along from rock to rock as if leading us to the waterfall that was our destination. Once there, the huge blue bird (bluejay?) flew back down the river probably to lead other hikers to the falls.

I had seen blue herons before and none had ever acted like this. I had also seen bluejays but never on the fence in my backyard like this. So there it is. Another story to tell over a glass of wine.… and a third blog post I can glean from my therapy session.