The Messenger

On the balcony of the hotel room we booked perched a bird with a splash of emerald-green on its neck. It was a pigeon and it roosted just outside the glass window next to my mom's bed. The bird appeared shortly after we arrived, and it didn't stir no matter how close we approached its spot. Mother spoke to the pigeon like the avian was her long-time companion. It was like a union of souls coming from a long journey to witness a life-changing event. Utol too, saw the pigeon but she was more terrified of being pecked as she tried to have their photos taken than wonder the bird's place in the divine order of things. I too was concerned about the bird. I tossed some bread crumbs, worried that the little fellow might starve before sunrise. At the back of my head however, I felt something odd about the pigeon. On my dad's grave a few days before, I spoke of reincarnation, and my wish for heaven to leave its window ajar for my dad to see the wedding. It was a lukewarm desire, thought by some higher state of awareness residing in me. For whatever its worth, the pigeon's presence was a good omen. We slept that night assured that dad was among us.

The bird might be roosting before its long journey. It was the most reasonable explanation. It could also be a cosmic messenger: a response after a careless reverie caught the universe's attention. We woke up to a sun-bathed Taal Lake. The air was fresh, and the wind from the nearby peaks blew of good tidings. Looking at the balcony, the bread crumbs were no more. All that is left were the bird droppings all over the balcony floor.

Like a family member saying hello at the eve of the wedding, the pigeon flew away just before daybreak.