I was driving this morning, on my way to an appointment, my mind caught up in something that wasn’t feeling great. I was rehashing my situation and debating alternatives, looking for a perfect solution and realizing it probably didn’t exist. (And desperately wanting to find it anyway.) I was very focused on my problem.
Then a bird flew right in front of my car, just slow enough so that I could clearly see it. Just slow enough so that I could notice the universe shouting at me. Because it was a yellow bird, my first one of the season.
I’ve said before that I love yellow birds. I love seeing yellow birds. They fill my heart with delight and always, always, always make me notice what’s right with the world. They make me stop and remember all the things I can easily forget – that all is well, that there are reasons to smile and beauty is all around me, if I open my eyes to it.
I don’t see my yellow birds often. They’re somewhat scarce. My mother notices cardinals and smiles, and part of me wishes I did too, because I see cardinals every day. But it’s the yellow birds – that are so few and far between – that bring me a surge of joy. Maybe because they are few and far between. Maybe because they’re such a beautiful, bright shade of yellow. I don’t know.
I had been looking for them recently. I sit outside every morning and notice all the other birds and I had been wondering where my yellow birds were. I heard myself ask them when they were coming. I heard myself question, what if the universe doesn’t shout at me with yellow birds this year? I looked and looked and looked for them. But until now, they hadn’t shown up.
But today one did. And I could smile. And, again, know that all is right and okay with the world.
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