Girlfriends and angels

Five friends from high school -- including my best friend since grade school -- got together for dinner the other night. We have been seeing more of each other in recent months, holding tight to our friendship in honor of a sixth who had moved out West years ago and was having a tough time with cancer. This week's dinner was especially important because our ailing friend, nicknamed "Bird," had lost her fight a few days earlier.

The first two to arrive were sharing a 1970 photo of the two of them with Bird. It was a beautiful fall evening and our meeting place was the outdoor patio of a new restaurant we had been wanting to try. As the two reminisced about happier times full of promise, an especially bright shaft of evening light caused them to look up just in time to see a small, white feather float out of nowhere and gently light on the empty sixth chair at the head of the table.

I was the last one there, and as I started to take the closest open spot, the others cried out, "Don't sit there! That's Bird's seat!" Then I heard the story of how she had joined our party that evening.

More memories were shared and old pictures were passed around the table. None of us doubted that the tiny feather was anything but a happy greeting from our friend who had passed. At some point during the gathering, Bird was suddenly gone. She had flitted away unseen by any of us, and that was very much in character. She was always a free spirit, and we will miss her.