Connections

Author's Note: Lately I've just been trying to keep my writing frequency up, so I wrote about something that happened somewhat recently. I've found I write better when I write about something I've experienced or some memory, so I wrote about... well you'll just have to see. 

I spot a gentle bird off in the distance and it looks dead at me, then flies away. That's the bird. The one I've been hearing all of these days. That pure two note tune that brings a smile to my face no matter what my mood. Beautifully carried through the air, the sweat sound triggers a nonexistent memory, causing me to react in a way that can't be described.  Passed through my genes my reaction is to whistle back. The same exact two note tune.

It's truly remarkable how you can be connected to your relatives without even knowing it. Without knowing them that well or without even knowing the connection. Finding out unique aspects of how anything from really blue eyes, to a reaction to a specific noise is related to someone you barely know. 

I've recently discovered that I have this connection with my great-grandma.

Sitting outside eating dinner on mother's day a bird off in a nearby tree sang the two notes.  My grandma makes a comment about how that was the bird that her mom used to whistle back and forth with. I was positive that it was the exact bird I hear in the morning sometimes. The conversation continues with remarks on how we are alike in that way, and how my great-grandma is still here. In the form of that bird.

The hunt began as my dad tried to find a bird book and CD he had for his classroom a couple of years ago. In the meantime my grandma and I talked about the sound. By then, the bird had left and we were trying to recreate the tune it so beautifully makes. My mom tried to whistle it, and to her I bet it sounded right on, but there's a distinct difference between that bird and anything else. My grandma remembers from her childhood and knows that's not quite right. The first time I tried I could tell it sparked her memory because the smile on her face said it all. My grandma couldn't exactly get the tune right either, so it must be a special bond only I share with my great-grandma.

It's amazing the little details in life that you give no second thought until something comes out if it. That bird, the Black-Capped Chickadee we now think it is, is probably the strongest connection I have with Lumpy -- That was my great grandmas nickname. She and I never actually spent that much time together, but somehow I got this reaction to this one and only bird. It could've been any other bird that I whistled back to. But it was the Black-Capped Chickadee. The one that stood out. To me, to her but to nobody else.