Sign, Sign, Everywhere a Sign

 Do YOU believe in signs, from the Universe, or God or whatever you want to call the entity in charge of all things Woo-Woo?

I sure do.

Back in the day, when I was youngish, before menopause- I could predict earthquakes: California was having more than a few in the '80s and '90s and even though it was a cool party trick, it made me very anxious.

Things quieted down for a bit and then four years ago, when I was in Colorado, the day of the eclipse, I was walking down some stairs that were a bit rickety, and I said to myself:

"Woah, that was close. I've never broken a bone, but today could be the day."

Five hours later, I fell at a different location and had to be hospitalized. I broke 12 bones in my wrist and mangled my elbow. But...I didn't hit my head!

 Meh, it's not always fun seeing the future.

Cut to September 17, 2018: After speaking to my husband on the phone from the hospital where I was visiting my father, I decided to go out to lunch on the way home. As I walked into the restaurant, I said to myself, 

"It's a good thing I can eat at restaurants by myself, so when Ralph dies, I'll be OK."

Who the hell thinks that? That would be me.

 I enjoyed my lunch and when I got home, well, he had died.

So, yeah, I'm pretty sure I'm a witch, which is a family trait. Not like a bitch/witch, but much like a cousin of mine, a woman/widow was accused of witchcraft in Salem, Massachusets in 1692. On top of that, she had the unfortunate name of Ann Pudeator. Sigh. They hung her.

Since My husband died, I've looked for signs that he's still around, and on many occasions, I have seen them: a hawk flying into my windshield, dimes that he promised he would leave me, his name popping up in weird spots, so yeah, I'm a believer in signs from the Universe, as is my daughter.

 My son- not so much.

My son is a political scientist, a very smart, level-headed young man and also since he was a small child he's been a very black and white, right and wrong kind of guy. 

It's a fine trait, but not one he inherited from his hippy-dippy mom.

Recently, on the 2nd anniversary of his father's death, I shared a strange happening at the beach with him and he tried, unsuccessfully to explain to me that it was OK that I thought it was a sign, but it was most likely a very nice coincidence. 

I was a bit miffed, but I know my son- who misses his father and his entire family, being that he resides in a sane country called, "Canada."

A few hours later he called me.

"I was on a street that I'm not normally on and I looked down and saw this," he said.

I heard a catch in his voice and didn't ask if he believed that it was a sign, but I'm pretty sure he knew it was more than a coincidence.

I miss you too, Ralph.