Springtime is Coming

Early today while finishing an assignment, I proofed it, read it aloud, and clicked send. Ah, such relief! When the editor arrives at her office, she will have the assignment that was given to me only two days ago. I stepped away from my desk, pleased with the story and my ability to research, interview and write when the pressure is on and the clock is ticking. One thing I've learned recently is even when a writer is ill, she (or he) can still write. I've been sick for over seven weeks now with a dreadful case of asthma, but the doctor has assured me that I am getting better, and this too, shall pass.

Strolling back to my desk, I glanced out the window, and for the first time in a long time I am watching birds in my bird bath. Flapping their wings, rolling their tiny bodies, I see a flock of robins enjoying bath time. A blue jay landed and one of the robins was just a bit possessive (or perhaps private) about bath time. He moved close to the blue jay, as if to say, "You're in my territory. Move!" The blue jay obeyed. Now, there are four robins dancing about in the bird bath. Two are playing, or maybe they are flirting, but they do not appear to be too happy about sharing their bath. Splashing about, how I wish I could comprehend what they are expressing.

Today is February 26, only two more days until February fades into oblivion. Springtime is only a few weeks away. Watching the robins searching for food and bathing in my bird bath is a symbol to me. I recall the times my father and I would play a silly game to see who would see the first robin of spring. Most of the time, Dad would win the game and I would giggle and exclaim, "Daddy, that is so unfair. When will I see the first signs of spring."

Oops. My silly pups are dying to go outside. No doubt they've hopped into the window seat to see the robins. Shakespeare scratches at the door, so the robins will flutter away soon, and I must make certain Shakespeare does not catch a robin. He loves to chase birds. Must be the Schnauzer in him. Eight robins are now in the bird bath. I hope they return after Shakespeare goes exploring. I opened the door watching the robins scatter away safely.

My dad was a reserved, private man who rarely shared his emotions or love, but each time I giggled, opened my arms towards him and squealed in my little girlish voice that "I wanted to see the first sign of spring and beat you at this game," he melted. Yes, I was a daddy's girl, even during the times of family battles, or should I say, family wars. My dad simply could not resist my charms and my sisters, and mother, were furious that I had that effect on him.

I lost my dad in 1999, but on a day like today, when I see the first sign of springtime, I still remember the games of childhood. Dad and I sang together, harmonizing, thus teaching me the beauty and appreciation of art and music. Now, I still sing, not professionally, but it is lots of fun. I have good memories to cherish. Today, I am so excited about the robins, springtime, the road to recovery and life in general. Happy springtime. The robins are home.