Last night, I lay awake and remembered a friend.

It was early spring when we met, a time when I was sad and lonely. I wasn’t sleeping well and, each night, a bird would sing loudly, outside my window. It went on for weeks and, to my ears, the beautiful birdsong becoming less cheerful and less beautiful by the night. Some nights, I would lay and think longingly, of my brother’s air rifle and peace and quiet.

I knew not what kind of bird he was, just a loud one. I looked so many times to try and catch him at his song, but never did.

One day, as the sun began to show itself and the buds were still tight on the trees, I heard his song – loud, outside my office window. I turned and caught him – there he was, a big blackbird, just sitting on the wall and singing. I felt he was calling me, so abandoning my work for a moment of adventure, I went outside. I fully expected him to be gone by the time I got there but there he was singing and strutting and tilting his head in an attractive and slightly cocky manner.

I wondered how we might communicate, since he’d obviously called me here. I don’t speak blackbird and he definitely didn’t speak my language – but we both could sing. I made eye contact with him, now just 6 feet away. Quietly, I began to hum just to get him used to the sound and then slowly began my walk across the gravel drive towards him.

As I moved another foot or two, he turned to face me directly. Emboldened, my hum became a song, the only one I could sing for him;

Blackbird singing in the dead of night
Take these broken wings and learn to fly
All your life
You were only waiting for this moment to arise
Blackbird singing in the dead of night
Take these sunken eyes and learn to see
All your life
You were only waiting for this moment to be free.
Blackbird fly, Blackbird fly
Into the light of the dark black night.

I was acutely aware of the noise of the gravel. Right at this point, a man walked past my wall, his head at the same height as my bird. I thought my bird would fly, but he kept looking at me, head tilted to one side. I didn’t stop singing and, from the corner of my eye, I saw the man smile and move on.

The bird and I, we met. He let me walk right up to him. I knew it was a privilege, a private pass into his inner sanctum. We spent 5 minutes, or an age, together in that place. We stared into each others eyes and sang together. I reached my hand out and placed it, gently on the wall next to him. I knew I couldn’t touch him that would be too far, a violation of the trust he placed in me. He took a moment to look at my offered hand and took just the tiniest hop towards it.

Our eyes met again and he held me there, pinned willingly on his naked and vulnerable gaze. I smiled and felt my heart expand, literally felt it grow; increasing its capacity to love, encompassing my new friend. I knew he felt the same. We shared this sacred moment.

A day or two later, I was in my kitchen and heard him singing. His voice was unmistakeable to me. I went outside and found him hopping on the top of the tall wall by the side of the house. This wall is about 10 feet tall and there was no hope of a repeat of our experience. And yet, now, there was an easy communication. When hearts meet, language melts and reforms into understanding.

Blackie was singing like there was nothing else in the world but his song (I know it’s corny but it really is his name, he told me). He saw me and hopped a bit, slightly turned away from me and then looked back over his shoulder,

“Please leave me now, Heather, I am singing for a mate – and you are cramping my style badly” I chuckled to myself.

“ok, I understand, I’ll leave you to do your blackbird thing and there’s something you can do for me… Please stop your singing outside my window at 3am, you’re disturbing my sleep”

The deal was done and I left him. Nights became quiet after that, and though I slept through, I vaguely missed him. Last night, as I lay awake and thought of my friend I realised how much we had touched each other, enriched our lives and expanded our hearts. A small tear formed and the sad, sweet memory of a loving friend flashed through me. As I lay, grateful for our moment and giving thanks for such rare kinship, I heard Blackie’s song outside my window. The tear fell and I smiled. I looked at the clock, it was 3am.

Hearts, once connected, continue to feel each other, beat together across all divides. For, in truth, there are no divides, just One Heart.