“Are they messenger pigeons?”
I glanced at my young niece, Abby, then up at the line of fat pigeons sitting on the edge of the fencing. “Not these pigeons, honey.” I remarked, “Their only job is making messes.”
Abby cocked her head, studying one of the pigeons that took the initiative to fly to a nearby tree. The bird was different from the others. Oddly, it appeared to be listening to our conversation.
“Mama said pigeons carried messages from one person to another.” Abby’s gaze never leaving the pigeon, “and she said she was going to send me a message.”
I thought of my late sister and worried about the promise given to her only child. “Maybe she is super busy in Heaven with so many people to see.”
Just then the pigeon flew down from the tree and landed on the bench beside Abby. The little bird looked up expectantly and dropped a small cylinder case from its claw, squawked and flew away.
Abby picked it up and pulled a slip of paper from the case – and read:
“Dearest Abby, I made it to heaven and it is beautiful. Love always, Mama.”