It has been my experience that the universe often sends us signs to light our way or guide us on our life journeys. If one unexpectedly appears, I pay attention, often with shivers of synchronicity and a bit of awe. When Anne and I were searching for a new place to live, we went to countless open houses throughout areas north, west, and south of Boston. It was interesting but also frustrating because we didn’t see anything that was exactly right—and we lost the bid on one we really liked. As the end of our apartment lease drew closer (and we knew our rent was going up significantly), the pressure we felt increased.

We continued to look, and then there was one new open house at a condo community we had previously looked at but thought was a bit far away. Since this new condo seemed perfect for us, we decided to visit again. The night before the open house, just as I was going to sleep, I heard an eastern screech owl calling outside the window. I had not heard one for several years, and never near that particular location. I listened to its haunting call for several minutes before it stopped. Hearing it in the deep silent darkness felt almost sacred. The next day, we drove to the open house, and as we walked through the rooms, my eye was caught by a small painting on the wall: it was an eastern screech owl. Immediately, I had a profound inner sense that we were meant to live there. And, indeed, that is exactly what happened. Our bid was accepted, and we moved in several months ago.

Anne and I believed the owl was a sign for us, a signal pointing the way. That has helped us as we acclimated to a completely new town and very different surroundings. It has been difficult at times to let go of the familiar and jump into the unknown, even if it seems right. Interestingly, it’s the birds and the trees that continue to reassure us that we have made the right choice. The woods around the condo community are filled with birds, which in turn fill my heart with joy because I had been concerned that there wouldn’t be birds nearby when we moved. Especially robins, one of my most beloved birds.

I need not have worried. In fact, robins became the symbolic welcoming committee in the months after our move. Entire flocks of them flew overhead and landed in the nearby trees and on the ground, even in January. They ate juniper berries from the evergreens and foraged around through the leaves for insects. On any given day, I would encounter a dozen or more, which of course made me feel happy and also more “at home.”

As winter turned gradually to spring, house finches and song sparrows began their spring songs. The loud cheery call of the bright red male cardinal filled the air each morning from the very top of trees I passed on my walks. Deep in the woods I heard titmice, blue jays, goldfinches, and canyon wrens calling. Red-winged blackbirds arrived, heralding the beginning of spring migration, and their musical trills added to the orchestral mix. The presence of this large wooded area was a magnet for so many kinds of birds, and as the weeks passed, more and more spring migrants arrived (including Baltimore orioles!).

All of this was immensely reassuring to me, and once again I felt, as I had with the eastern screech owl, that the birds were giving us repeated, unmistakable “signs” that this was truly our home, as it was theirs. When a robin flies to a small tree next to where I’m standing and looks me in the eye with that friendly, intelligent robin gaze, I trust the perfect unfolding of my life here among the birds.