Sometimes I still beg for a sign.
Although I beseech the heavens out loud, I’m always alone when I do this. Most often it’s after sundown and by the sea. I usually have an answer within the hour.
Jim was both reliable and punctual.
I’ve realized only relatively recently that I live with two species of of signs. One–the beckoned sign–tends to arrive noisily, often in the form of a song or a bird. (At least once, a hoped-for sign arrived in pre-printed logo form.) Sometimes it’s more subtle–a butterfly brushing my shoulder, a deer gently approaching.
Another kind of sign–which I now think of as discovered (though rediscovered might be more fitting)–is already in my reach. I just need a little nudge to recognize its provenance.