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Finally. A robin’s song; like water to the soul. Like the first hints of spring after a long winter. I need that song desperately. I once told a crowd of homeschool bobbins that the robin’s song was ‘the happy song.’ If they heard me play the recording and couldn’t remember, I’d say it was the happy bird, and the word ‘American Robin’ would burst from them with all the excitement of children’s voices.

It’s spring again; except this time I am off at college instead of teaching birdsong to bobbins. The window to my dorm is open; it’s cold but I don’t care, spring is here and I need it to be here. I can catch the scent of spring.

Perhaps you think that’s odd; I don’t mind–I’m an odd person. When spring comes you know it; something in the pulsing blood, the weary heart suffused with a ray of light, and the sound of the world changing around you.

You sense it, you feel it, you know it. You can’t see any life in the deciduous trees, but you know life will come–you have faith it will come–spring always waves goodbye with the promise that it will be back at the allotted time next year.

Birds seem to awaken and there is sound to the woods once more; they are no longer silent and still as though dead. The earth smells new and green and earthy, holding all the promises of springtide.

I close my eyes in relief as I hear the sound of the robin. A weight lifts from my heart; like lead, like a deadweight removed. I can actually breathe again; it is possible to laugh again. I need to smile.

The song travels upward in a random assortment of lovely notes; like a waterfall tumbling toward the skies, each drop bouncing off the stars. This song cannot fall. I smile. How can I help but smile?

There are robins bouncing across the lawns of Western. Hop, hop, hop. Bob, bob, bop. Pause, stare, freeze. Hop, hop, hop. Bob, bob, bob. Pause. Fly. Sing. I laugh, I smile, I sing. I am happy, so very happy.

The robins have returned to my world.

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