Bluebird of Happiness

by Arden Ranger

I looked around our newlywed home, thoughtfully, carefully
What, I thought, can I give my husband’s friend at so important an occasion as his marriage? Something to mirror my wishes for their union?
My glance lit upon shining blue glass and the memory came rushing in.
My grandmother’s friend began a tradition, I had forgotten until that day.
"That’s it," I exclaimed, jubilantly, "I shall give them a Bluebird of Happiness."

It takes me awhile, but I finally find
Just the right kind of bird.
I cradle it in the palm of my hand and study the lines and curves.
The shining blue glass reflects the light and it seems almost alive.
I buy them all and take them home,
I’ll never have to search again.

"It’s the Bluebird of Happiness," I said proudly to the newlyweds
"While he lives in your house, your marriage will be a happy one."
The wife beamed at her young husband, secure in the knowledge of their eternity together.

Over the years as my stockpile dwindles
The bright little birds became something quite dear.
Not every announcement of wedding vows was met with a small velvet box.
They became something reserved for those who were nearest and dearest to me.

As a divorced, single mother,
I found the wedding invitation among the bills in the mail.
Happy for her, my best friend, I smile at my daughter of three
My eye is caught by the flash of shiny blue ribbon in her hair.
Without thinking twice,
I wrap the gift that will insure for my friend and her groom
Something I had yet to find.

The bride opened the festive box as her groom read the card from their friend.
Holding the bird of blue frosted glass, she smiles and gasped
With delight as the lights seemed make a dancing blue flame inside.
Lovingly, they set him in a place of honor in their home
And the legend inspires a smile.

I looked up from the wedding announcement at my new husband across the room.
The marriage of his sister, so important to him,
To me seemed only a chore. What do you give to a sister in law
Who means little or nothing to you?
Thoughtfully,taking the bright blue ball from the outstretched hands of my son,
I knew there was one thing that wouldn’t do.
She did not meet the criteria to me.
Instead of a precious bird of dark blue,
I go out and buy a stockpot.

Alone again, children in bed, flipping through bills unpaid,
My fingers brush the rich textured paper.
Sighing as I read the announcement, wondering what to give my friend
Foolish enough to marry so young.
A stabbing pain makes me look down at a battered Lego, bright blue.
With the announcement still clutched in my hand, I drop to my knees and I cry.

In the closet, I search the boxes that hold
The leftover pieces of me.
It has been so long, are there any left?
If not, I don’t know what I’ll do.
Triumphant at last, I cradle the white velvet box in my hands.
So many broken things litter my past,
Has this, the last of the Bluebirds, survived?
Fearfully I lift the lid and I find the last little bird intact,
A card inside bears the story I learned so long ago.
Without knowing why, I feel the tears
Once again fill my eyes.
With a last loving look, I close the box
To wrap for my friend and his bride.

I send the gift with the best man, the wedding I cannot attend.
Later that night I receive a call from the groom.
They think it’s sweet, it made the bride cry and everyone else was impressed
He promises me they will guard it well
And whenever they see it they’ll think of me.
I can’t help but wonder why.

Leafing through the keepsakes and memories, the new man in my life
Comes upon old thank you’s and asks,
"Why did you always give without fail, each and every one a Bluebird of Happiness
For their wedding present?"
"Why not," I replied
"But why?" he persists, "what does it mean?"
"It’s the Bluebird of Happiness," I replied with a sigh, feeling silly as I explained.
"As long as he lives in your home, your happy marriage is insured."
Looking around the room, his eyes rest on mine and softly he asks, "Where’s yours?"

My eyes take on a look unfocused, faraway. Remembering all of the times
I had faithfully recited the legend on all those wedding days,
While inside, naive belief had succumbed to jaded truth and stunned, I whisper,
"I don’t have one."
"I never gave myself a Bluebird of Happiness."
He gently takes my trembling hands in his and smiles,
"I will."