Birthday Eagle

My saving grace after losing Liz—and one of the brightest reasons I could find to breathe again after moving to the Upstate—was the birth of my first grandchild. Ellie.

She’s this breathtaking blend of both my girls—Liz’s heart and humor stitched right into her smile, and her mama’s determination glowing in her eyes. Liz would’ve absolutely adored her, spoiled her rotten, and claimed her as her little shadow.

Ellie came into this world just two years after Liz left it. And because her mama was working, I kept her often during those early months. We built a bond so strong it feels like it’s woven from something sacred—love that reached across generations and stitched broken hearts together.

“Unicorns, sprinkles, and six-year-old magic.”

This week, we celebrated Ellie’s sixth birthday. She’d been bursting with excitement about turning six—until I made the mistake of sighing and saying I wished she’d stay five forever. Instantly, her face softened with empathy (so much like her Aunt Liz’s), and she promised she would stay five just for me. I’d forgotten how literal six-year-old hearts can be. So I had to laugh and reassure her that being six was wonderful—more than wonderful—and that no matter how many candles she blows out, she’ll always be my little pumpkin. (She was born on Halloween, after all.)

Her mom threw a unicorn party fit for the storybooks—a white horse dressed as a unicorn, rides for all her little friends, and a few furry guests: bunnies, a cat, and laughter that carried through the air like confetti.

“The birthday girl, steady in the saddle and full of wonder.”

At one point, a few buzzards circled lazily above us. One little girl looked up, eyes wide, and shouted, “Look! It’s a birthday eagle!”

“Childhood wonder — where even an ordinary horse becomes a unicorn.”

And just like that, the air shifted.

The same bird that used to remind me of death and endings—of roadkill and loss—suddenly felt reborn. From now on, every buzzard I see will be a birthday eagle—a reminder that even in the strangest places, life can surprise you with new meaning.

Oh, to always see the world through the eyes of a six-year-old—where even the shadows can take flight and become something worth celebrating. 💙🪷

🌤️ Reflection:

Maybe the secret to healing isn’t found in grand epiphanies, but in simple shifts of sight — when a buzzard becomes a birthday eagle, when grief softens into gratitude, and when a little girl’s laughter turns mourning into music.

To live like that — eyes wide, heart open — is to rise again.

Until our next heartbeat,

💙🪷 Jen