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. 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