Pigeon Symbolism

and signs from the skies

A time of reflection.

I have not been able to write much.

My mind shut,

eyes closed,

wept,

laughed,

walked out into the June mornings,

reflecting,

the house silent,

at times,

then Mum will walk down the hallway, the way she would, touching the pictures, pushing off the dust, turning, having a little moan about the fact she was too involved in something else to do the dusting

It is so hard, isn’t it?

It is,

when you have been together for so many years,

when you have known each other for so many years,

and you feel that something is just at the beginning,

when in fact it is at the end,

funny how it all becomes memory upon memory

and so

l look for signs.

I want to share the story of the pigeons

for I do believe in signs,

and as you know,

in everything there is a story.

Here is mine.

Vivi my grandchild was with us when Mama died.

She had spent the past month with us and knew what was happening.

She drew a picture for her and placed it on her bed. It was of a turtle. She lay next to me calmly while I told her about Mama being born in China and all the funny stories I knew. Suddenly she pointed to Mama’s dresser where there is a photo of herself and Dad.

Mum’s dresser

“Why does Granny have a bird on her shoulder?” Vivi asks.

“Well, you see, when I lived in Montreal, which is across the sea from here, I used to save doves and pigeons that were hurt. This one was called Cri-Cri, and when Mama and Dad came to visit me, Mama loved Cri-Cri, and Cri-Cri loved her, and would come and sit on her shoulder for the evening.”

Vivi is fascinated. Cri-Cri she mutters to herself.

Two hours later they take Mama away. Down the long, silent hall. My heart rips raw.

Vivi goes to play in the garden with her mother, Alyosha, under the plum tree which will ripen blue-green fruit by summer’s end. Then they go to the beach for the rest of the day. To Hastings, on England’s edge, with France the other side.

That night Alyosha, my daughter, calls me in a panic. A white/grey pigeon-dove has flown into her flat. She is scared to pick it up. I arrive. It is sitting peacefully on the windowsill while the evening sun flutters colours around it. In all the time I have lived, no bird has ever flown in from the outside through a tiny window opening. Maybe pigeons squeeze up small like cats.

(I tried to get a photo and found this amazing free video at PEXELS taken in India by the wonderful artist/photographer Biplab Sau)

I pick it up, it coos as I place it on the doorstep. It flies off, slowly, two feathers falling gently to the ground.

Walking home I think about signs.

Is this a message?

Pigeons appear in stories as harbingers of peace, faith, and fidelity. They can guide souls safely into the hereafter and carry messages between the realms. Muslims and Hindus often feed pigeons, honouring them. (Pigeon Symbolism & Meaning).

I think it is

Back at Mum’s where I have set up my tiny studio, I pull out a bundle of photos, the next set to scan. I love the way photos find themselves piled into different years and themes; anyway this is how it is in our household; often jumbled up, with a few postcards and greeting cards.

This bundle are photos from an Australian trip Mum and Dad took to visit me and my brother Tom when we lived there. I pull the string off them and a small handwritten note falls out. Mum has a tendency to leave messages here and there, poked into books, in old handbags, down the side of the sofa, as if knowing, one day we will find them. In this note she tells us how much she loves us, and not to leave things till tomorrow, do them today. “I will be watching over you, I will find a way if I can.” It was written in 1994.

I go for a walk to think. At the end of Mum’s road a man empties his flat onto the pavement. He lets me take some photos. It is not every day we have street sales in Tunbridge Wells.

On the edge of Woodbury Park Road

As I turn to move away I see three glass pigeons on a glass try. I buy them for five pounds.

I will add them to the one glass bird Mum has, which came from China with her as a child. She gave it to me years ago, but I kept it on her mantlepiece, waiting for the right time to take it. Now I have three to sit next to it, one for each of my brothers, Ivan, Tom and Patrick.

I have always favoured corvids - magpies and crows. Now I add the columbidae (pigeon) family to my list. We move into summer, it rains down heat here.

Mama’s ceremony is on 3rd July 2023

A new chapter begins.

Thank you so much for reading and supporting my work.

It means a lot to me. Have a wonderful week ahead.

If you are interested in learning how to make a documentary, digital story or digital/hands-on scrapbook take a look at my website, where there is also a doc blog with tips and ideas to get you started on your journey.

Click picture to bring you to the website

And coming soon a Substack documentary Storytelling Journal

LIFE IS BEAUTIFUL

jeanne

X