A Good Omen for 2025

In April of 2000, I began working at a Quaker school Near Philadelphia; the Head of School's assistant had been hospitalized with a dreadful diagnosis and I was brought in as a temporary-possibly-permanent replacement. The position became permanent and I  was to work in that capacity for thirteen years. 

One afternoon early in that first September, as the school day was ending, two breathless freshman girls burst into my office asking if I could spare a couple of rubber bands. They both had luxurious dark hair, it was a windy day, and autumn sports practices had begun. I was happy to oblige.

Freshmen that they were, the next day they returned with the same request. 

They took to making regular visits, and not just to beg. My office had a pair of big, comfortable, red chairs, and they'd settle in and discuss all manner of things. I was baffled but delighted. One was chatty and impetuous and had an on-again/off-again boyfriend; the other was quieter, thoughtful, and had no idea how beautiful she was. They were curious about my life, and intrigued to learn that I made quilts. At one point I brought a pin-basted quilt sandwich to school and showed them how to tie it; over a couple of days they spent their free periods tying the whole thing. At the end of that academic year, Chatty Cathy left to attend a different school and I thought, well, that was that. 

To my surprise, when school reopened in September, on the very first day, Megan appeared and took her usual seat in the red chair. I offered her a rubber band, but she was a sophomore now and knew how to plan ahead. 

It turned out to be a four-year relationship where this almost-adult and I got to know each other and our mutual affection flourished. I listened as she considered colleges, got a piercing, and told me about her pet rat. At graduation she gave me a painting of a bird (it's in my kitchen) and, of course, I gave her a quilt.

During the next nine years, she'd occasionally return for Homecoming and when I eventually joined Facebook, we officially became "Friends."

We gradually lost contact because Megan was busy and didn't post often; her life was full of acquiring graduate degrees, working with various animals, and forging a relationship with a lovely man. 

On the last night of 2024, and glad to see the end of it, we stayed up late. This was not out of a need to celebrate but rather to keep from being awakened by the fireworks at midnight. We watched a Shetland, we watched a Downton Abbey and then another, and finally it was late enough for Himself and Lizzy to set out for their evening exercise. I tended to the dishes in the sink, turned out the lights and sat down with my laptop while I waited for their return.

I opened Facebook and just as the clock struck twelve and the fireworks began, I saw the post.  Megan's become a mom, as of six days ago. The first thing I saw in 2025 was a photograph of her baby daughter. 

Now, if that's not a good omen, I don't know what is!