The Legend Of The Little Bluebird

Before I explain the Legend of the Bluebird, let me preface by saying I firmly believe there's no such thing as coincidence.

It started back in April at the funeral of my best friend Diva Stacy's mother, Dolly. One of the flower arrangements had a little life-size bluebird wired to a ribbon, and Diva Stacy's daughter (who we refer as Diva-in-training) asked me to get the little bluebird off of the ribbon for her. Back at Diva Stacy's house, she placed the little bluebird on top of a kitchen cabinet among some ivy and other greenery.

Four days later, Diva Stacy noticed a pair of bluebirds outside of a birdhouse on the deck. The bluebirds had mated and were building their nest inside of this birdhouse. For over five years, no birds had ever lived in that birdhouse until the little bluebirds.

A few weeks later on Mother's Day, Diva Stacy noticed that the little bluebird in the kitchen had fallen from it's "nest" among the greenery on the cabinet top and was in the floor. First of all, let me say that I saw where this little bluebird was placed, and it was nowhere near the edge of the cabinet top where it could have easily fallen off. As of today, it hasn't fallen off since.

A few months later, I put on a pair of shoes that I hadn't worn in awhile, and I felt something in one of the shoes. At first I thought it was a teeny pebble or something; imagine my surprise when I found out it was a teeny tiny ceramic bluebird (pictured in the photo on the left). I have no idea where it came from, nor what it could have broken off of. I have no ceramic figurines in my bedroom.

Two weeks ago, Diva Stacy's husband found a similar teeny tiny ceramic bluebird (pictured in the photo on the right) in the floor at home and picked it up and laid it on the window sill. When I was at Diva Stacy's house the next day, she asked me if I had brought the teeny tiny ceramic bluebird from home and dropped it while I was at their house. I reassured her that my teeny tiny bluebird was at home on my dresser. A few days before this visit to Diva Stacy's house, I was listening to some of my favorite Linda Ronstadt songs while riding the bike, and one of the songs mentioned a little bluebird.

Are all of these little bluebird incidences just coincidence? I hardly think so.