When I was a little girl, my mom and dad shared their appreciation for bluebirds with us. My dad put bluebird houses up in our yard, hoping to attract them. My mom needlepointed sayings with bluebirds on, and found small glass sculptures of the tiny birds to place around our house.I think for them, those “bluebirds of happiness” truly did represent the peace and joy that was within the walls of our home.
When I grew up and moved to eventually land in the house I now live in, I tried desperately to attract bluebirds. Put out houses. Bought a whistle. Bluebird food.
But over the past few years, with my mom passed and my dad declining, I would awaken many mornings to a soft hammering on my house. At the highest point on one corner of the outside in the cedar siding, a woodpecker was diligently creating a hole. Each time I’d see him working his way through the side of my house, I’d wonder how I was going to deal with this issue, for surely a hole made by a bird in one’s house wasn’t a “good thing.”
But, I would put the worry aside, to allow room for more important priorities-my father.
It’s the first spring without my dad-my first spring on the planet without parents somewhere within a few miles reach. Without parents at all.
That hole in my house that was being made as my dad was dying? It’s home for a new family now. I glance up at it each morning as the sun makes its way into a new day. I think of my mom and my dad.
And I smile at the little family of bluebirds who have chosen my home…
It’s a good thing.