Not so long ago, I wrote about “cardinal sightings”, a sign I decided, that God was in my very close vicinity and that he’d sent “someone” to tell me so.

Then time passed as time does and the red bird flashing before my eyes didn’t mean much at all.

Over time, the search stopped,

the fascination faded.

Monday after the family gathering a couple of hours away, I’d been thinking about the way things change.

My aunt and uncle (my remaining parental figures) are aging. There are noticeable changes.

There are reasons to accept.

It won’t always be this way.

I walked the Labrador today. I was in no hurry. The sun was warm, the shade was invigorating.

I let the dog drift from the trail to the grass.

I waited and then looked up to see the bird on the branches, a red one.

It lingered. It perched.

I paused to rejoice silently.

I came back home and worked on a painting, refreshed my son’s bedroom for when he visits with fresh sheets and comforter, fluffed the quilt and got the bed ready for his dog to stretch out.

The Labrador who’s staying with us, but not for too long. He’ll be back in Charlotte in a new quiet home very soon.

I thought of Christmas today, of Christmases of my childhood, Christmases of before.

I thought of how it’s a pattern of mine to anticipate the sameness and sadness of them.

And yet, if you made a bullet list of hard and good Christmases side by side, we’d both be surprised, maybe enlightened.

I don’t know why the emotions work this way, we hold the hard so tightly and we hold the sweet and beautiful as if it’s not important, as if it’s not a splendid gift, a time to treasure.

We look for the memorable and forget the moments.

We long for the same no matter its goodness and we resist the reality of every single breath alongside those we love that testifies to the truth,

It won’t be this way for long.

Oh my goodness, I saw my grandmother’s face on my aunt, the tiny little circles like apples on her cheeks as she smiled.

And she saw it too. It was the first time she noticed and now we all can’t not see it.

And I saw her face when she saw me, saw my children, their children and all of the others.

And it won’t always be this way.

We’re not predictors of time or change or good or hard.

I saw three cardinals, a flash of crimson through the window.

One lingered, dipping into the birdbath that belonged to my mama.

It was a day of unexpected sightings for what I’d not been seeking.

Isn’t that the way, the most beautiful way?

It won’t always be true.

But, some days it will.

And the worst of days no longer mark you because you pause to see the good have been better, the sweet has been sweeter and the expectations have been softened by the brave embrace of the comparison.

Continue and believe.