Blissful Mornings - Serelina’s Call

The morning began not with a clock, but with birds.

First one, then another. Then a soft, layered symphony of springtime calls—like nature’s

own choir rising in delight. Serelina lay quietly, her eyes still closed, letting the chorus pour

into her. It wasn’t loud. It wasn’t urgent. It was welcoming.

She cracked the window beside her bed. A gentle breeze, kissed with the scent of new

growth, slipped into the room. It moved the curtain slightly, like the breath of something

unseen.

And then, without fanfare, the realization came:

The Light never left.

It had only hidden for a time. Or perhaps, it had been tucked inside the quiet things—the

small joys she had stopped noticing. The scent of tea. The soft weight of a favorite quilt. The

way her hands still moved gently over pages of her journal.

She thought about all the days she had searched for signs, prayed for clarity. All the moments she believed she had been in the dark.

But the birds… the birds knew. The Light was returning. And not just to the earth—but to her.

She sat up slowly, pulled her journal to her lap, and wrote just three words:

I remember now.

As the birdsong continued, Serelina’s heart reached backward—into memory.

When she was little, her parents would lift her up in their arms and spin her around, arms

outstretched like wings. “Soaring high above our life’s perils” her father used to say, a

phrase that became a sort of family spell. They used it to cheer each other during hard times—especially after the day they lost their beloved pet bird, a blue jay named Blue.

Blue had been small, but vibrant. His presence filled their home with curious joy. When it passed, they held a gentle ceremony in the backyard.

They made a soft nest of pine needles and flowers, laying Blue to rest beneath the lilac bush. It was their way of honoring a life well-lived, however brief.

Now, in moments when Serelina’s Light dims or feels far away, a single bird call often arrives to remind her: Blue is near. Not just in spirit, but in essence. In every flight. In every

call that stirs something eternal in her heart.

The birds’ morning symphony wasn’t just nature—it was memory. It was healing.

It was Light returning as a familiar voice, calling her home to joy.

As the memory deepened, another image surfaced—her beloved fish, also a vibrant blue.

Merkabah had traveled with her for years, a tiny but loyal companion whose presence brought peace.

She passed on the same day Blue had left them, a day Serelina would always hold as bittersweet.

Together, they now shared the same burial place beneath the lilac bush—a sacred resting

ground woven with pine needles and blossoms. It was there Serelina first learned the

delicate art of honoring both loss and joy, of recognizing that some bonds, though brief, are

eternal in their imprint.

Each birdsong now felt like a thread between worlds—between the girl she was, the

companions she cherished, and the woman she was becoming.

-Bliss Chains Authors