Welcome to a brand new week and let me start by saying I hope that you had a lovely Mother’s Day. If you were without a child or children, I was thinking of you; not for a moment in my writing last week did I forget that there are so many others who walk this path with me as a bereaved mom.
 
I also want to thank you for indulging me with the kindness that you did last week, expressed on Facebook, Twitter and in emails. I wrote from the heart and I know that sometimes that can probably be a bit exhausting to read and take in. But since this is a place where I can sort of let things spill, I am grateful to you for sharing the days that are light – and not so light. Fortunately, the latter are becoming less and less frequent and, in many ways, we have you to thank for that.
 
Today, we return to the light. In fact, even though it’s Monday, my gift to you is a true Friday feeling! Late last week, Rob and I hopped on the ferry (well, we actually drove on, but you get my meaning) and decided to embark on the longest way we could find to get to the Okanagan, where my family and a speaking engagement, later this week, await. To do that, we took a 32 km ferry trip to San Juan Island in Washington State. 
 

 
With a population of just under 3,000, the entire island is a lovely drive. We took in the sights near the harbor and then the three of us (yes, Molly came along) enjoyed a leisurely look around while we waited for our hotel check-in time at 4:00. 
 
I saw something unforgettable out in the wild and I’ll tell you about it here tomorrow. But today, I had to share something else with you.
 
You know I’m a believer in signs and I had hoped that maybe on Friday we’d see something so that we could know that Lauren was with us on the anniversary of her passing. I tried not to set my hopes too high, however, and vowed I wouldn’t look too hard. But she made sure they were right in front of our faces. In one case, literally.
 
I wore a fuchsia-coloured yoga top, as I wasn’t going to be in mourning-dark colours on Friday, I’d decided. Perhaps that was the attraction; perhaps it was something else.
 
But as I stood outside the car waiting for Rob, a hummingbird – not ruby-throated like the ones we see at our feeders near Victoria, but a stunning deep pink like my top – zipped over and hovered right in front of my nose. It was about a foot in front of my face for what I imagine was three seconds before it moved up and down and then flew away as quickly as it had shown up. I couldn’t believe what I saw: this symbol of joy came right up to me as if to say, “Good morning!”
 
I told Rob about the visit as we climbed into the car to take a drive up the side of the island that we hadn’t explored the day before. From this part of beautiful San Juan Island we could clearly see the part of the Saanich Peninsula that we call home. In fact, I had to tell Rob that his constant reminders of how close our house was were really taking the excitement out of a road trip; kind of like pitching a tent in your backyard as a kid and then continuing to look out to see what your folks are doing through the rec room curtains. You know? 
 
The skies were blue as we listened to the Beatles’ White Album on our quiet, drive. While “Martha My Dear” (about Paul’s sheepdog) played, we looked to the right of the roadside and couldn’t quite believe our eyes: there, about eight feet in length, sat a big, whimsical yellow submarine. (Our daughter was raised on Beatles and loved them as we do.) 
 
Don’t believe us? Here.
 

 
Maybe you still don’t believe in signs; maybe you do. But at the end of the day, as Rob and I were getting ready to call it a night, I leaned over and turned on the car radio one last time and we heard one more Beatles song. What made it remarkable to us was that neither of us – crazy fans that we are – had ever heard the song. Recorded on Rob’s ninth birthday, it’s called “I’ll Be on My Way.” The lyrics aren’t perfect, but they’re close enough:

The sun is fading away
That’s the end of the day
As the June light turns to moonlight
I’ll be on my way 

Just one kiss and I’ll go
Don’t hide the tears that don’t show
As the June light turns to moonlight
I’ll be on my way

And then later there’s another verse….

To where the winds don’t blow 
And golden rivers flow
This way I will go

Maybe it’s just a bit of delusion – the things we believe to give us hope along the way. But I sure don’t have a problem with that. A song, a bird of joy and a yellow submarine? Yes, please.
 
Tomorrow, a moment in nature that I can’t wait to share with you.