Having a January birthday can sometimes seem like a bummer. After all, who wants to celebrate a birthday when everyone’s tired of celebrations because of Christmas? The cold air of January does not, generally, seem like a festive time. Winter is soundly here and it’s not leaving any time  soon. In January, the window panes are cold, the heater is generally on and before you step outside the door, you check the thermometer to see how many warm things you need to put on.  Not exactly party weather.  And besides, there is a point when you don’t believe a new birthday is going to bring anything good at all. Are there actually any new experiences for someone like myself?

So last night, I decided to go to work substitute teaching on my birthday.  I wouldn’t expect anything good; I would just hope to have a decent normal work day. Around noon, I looked out and saw a flash of red. I went to the window and watched the red blur jump about the branches of a leafless tree then stop so I could see the bright back feathers, black crest and yellow beak.  Could it be? Yes, it was a cardinal. 

The ancient Romans were always observing birds and conjecturing things from their movements  but I never used to even notice birds. Their flights and landings seemed positively inconsequential – what did it matter? I was like the movie character, high school senior Ferris Bueller, who said of European socialism,

“What do I care? I’m not European, I don’t care if they’re socialists, and none of this is going to do anything about the fact that I don’t have a car.”

Somehow the sight of the bird does seem important to me now, today.  I wonder if I saw him because of a change in my perspective that comes with maturity (those older than me probably don’t consider me “mature” at all, I am 43.) Perhaps I am  going into a new phase of life-awareness.  I certainly remember my grandmother’s obsession with birds, the setting up of bird feeders, and the lists of birds seen.

The quiet thrill I felt at the flash of red did gave me the feeling of being in on a secret. And I admit, more and more I understand things that used to baffle me. I see things about people I never would have figured out when I was in my 20′s. I walked away from the window, hoping that the cardinal on my birthday was a good sign, and not some random occurrence. I faced  the class, and got back to work, deciding to take a page from the Roman’s taking of signs from the movement of birds. The cardinal, I tell myself, is a good sign. It’s telling me to take heart and enjoy the world, that there are new things to do and learn, and a birthday is something to celebrate, whether you’re 1 or 99.