I had just found out the day before that PB and GC had died.  It was horrific.  In a plane crash.  The two of them, G & P, up in the gorgeous, blue sky in early spring, doing what they loved to do.  And in an instant….they were gone.
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So, here I was, walking along the beach strip the next morning with a friend.  Telling her.  And in doing so, giving her some background of how I knew them.  That they were French Canadian.  They loved nature.  I told her how I painted the walls of their home in the Dundas Valley and that G would sit at the back window and watch the birds, and I would teach her English vocabulary and explain the meanings of idioms.  G loved birds.  I spoke those exact words to my friend.
And that’s when it happened.  The birds came.  Many.  Dive bombed and swarmed us.  Just us, no one else.  I think I remember some people stopping to watch.  My friend and I laughed.  We commented that G was there in that moment.
And then the birds were gone.
​~ NW