An unexpected hand

This afternoon I went hiking in the Sandia Mountains. It’s was so pleasant and quiet. I went to clear my head of the last few months of losses. My grandfather in August and my father this past month.

Alone I walked for an hour. On my way through Baca Canyon, I heard a strange bird chirp. It was like a short sound like a laser beam. I thought, “What an odd sounding bird.” I never saw it though, as hard as I looked for it. That was the only time I heard that bird too. Only in that one segment of the entire hike. After about an hour  or so I sat to contemplate and speak to each of my father figures, one on one…something I haven’t done since their deaths.

On my way back, I got lost and couldn’t remember which of two separate paths I had taken. I began to worry that I’d end up one of those idiot city boys who goes hiking without the proper equipment and without telling anyone only to be rescued from hypothermia three days later when civilization was a stone’s throw westward.

Then I heard that same laser bird chirp. That’s when I realized it was the only time I had heard that bird the entire hike. I stood there for an extra twenty minutes. Just listening to the chirp know that I knew which direction to go (right…as that was the direction of the chirp). I tried to find that bird while I stood there. Never did. Then I realized it wasn’t a bird. It was my grandpa helping me along. Under my breath, I thanked him for his help. The chirping immediately stopped. Swear to heaven and french bread pizza it did!

I never heard that chirp again. That’s when I knew. He knows how much I love him and miss him dearly.

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