Give Me a Sign

Thanks, Nan.

My mom fed the squirrels around our house old bread, an act that was very out of character for her.  Nan's squirrel feeding was a point of contention between us, as the squirrel population around our house seemed to be growing.

Nan would tear up the bread and toss the pieces out the kitchen window.  Whenever I looked out the kitchen window it was not uncommon to see a squirrel sitting on the fence staring back at me.

One Saturday, I walked into the kitchen to find brownie crumbs all over the kitchen table and floor.  I assumed that the boys had helped themselves to the brownies sitting on the kitchen table and left the crumbs for me to clean up.

I picked up the brownie crumbs on the table and the floor, eating them as I went along.  Then I noticed a hole in the window screen.  It took me a few seconds to put all of the pieces of the scene together, and when I did I knew Nan's furry friends were the culprits and not the boys.

Yes, I ate the crumbs, all of the crumbs, from the brownies handled by the squirrels.

The Squirrel Standoff reached a crisis level and I insisted that Nan stop feeding the squirrels.  Nan did not like to be told what to do, but went along with my request, reluctantly.

Not long after Nan passed away, I was standing at the kitchen sink looking out the window.  A squirrel appeared on the fence and stared directly at me for about a minute, it then turned around, bent over, lifted its tail, and flashed me its rear end.

I had been praying for Nan to Give Me a Sign that she was okay.

I think that was the sign.  She's fine.  And, she's still mad about the squirrels.

Thanks, Nan.