Page 138 - Dark Matter:Women Witnessing Issue2

in and out of my life like fireflies in the night. The males ushered in family loss, and the cardinals’

families helped me deal with those losses, but what might it mean to have a female cardinal in my life?

I had no idea.

This fall when I heard the clear, repetitive clicking of a cardinal, I was delighted. The staccato sound

came from my grapevine, now stripped of its leaves by November’s north wind. When I looked out,

there she was, perched near some frozen grapes. I promptly opened the front door, scattered some

seed under the pines, and watched from the window until I saw her drop to the ground to feed.

Examining her through binoculars, I decided this was not the female that visited last winter. A

bittersweet beak set off the subtle smudged olive feathers of her coat; her beaded eyes and tufted

peak brought tears to my eyes.

Each morning I leapt out of bed to give her some seed as she clicked from the grapevine. When it

became apparent she was alone, I was astonished; she had been calling out to me to bring her seed.

Soon, she began clicking during odd times of the day for her meager ration of seed. Amazingly, she

always seemed to sense which room I was in.

She also chirped at me when I was outside, sometimes following me into the overgrown field strewn

with white pines when I walked or snow-­‐shoed down the paths. One day she chirped with such

exuberance that I sang back to her a little song that I made up on the spot, having no idea what it

meant. “I’m a little cardinal sitting in a tree, I can be the bridge you need me to be.” She eyed me from

her perch with what appeared to be genuine affection, then excitedly chirped back. A thunderbolt

struck: I realized this little bird was bridging me to hope, and I felt light flood my body. No wonder I had

fallen in love with her. Just as the male had once ushered in profound loss with its all its fire, chaos and

loss of familial blood, she seemed to embody a message of hope I could feel.

The day after Christmas, I had a visit from my grandsons, Drew and Cameron. They wanted to learn

more about me, the grandmother they were denied until adulthood, and to know more about their

Italian heritage. Our future together depends upon us, we decided, and includes the dream of a trip to

Italy. Our planning for the future manifested in the giant bulb they brought me as a gift. A bulb aptly

named “Desire.”