Everything really does happen for a reason

The original Rainbow when I had her.
*

On Friday when I got to my car to go to the yoga retreat, I noticed that the passenger window was shattered. As I closed my driver's door to go back inside, the shattered glass splintered to the ground. Turns out a stone from the gardener's weed-wacker had hit the window and broke it. To cut a long story short, it was highly inconvenient. It kept me back as I knocked out remaining glass and vaccuumed the splinters. I couldn't do anything more about it then (like get a new one) because I would have been late for the retreat. So I covered the window with a large garbage bag stuck down with duct tape ... then tossed the scissors and tape into my car, driving off, figuring I would deal with the window on Monday (which I did, this morning).

Had this not happened, I would have left earlier and gone to an art exhibition at the Museum and driven over the Lady Young to get there. But because my car would have been 'open' and because I was late, I decided to go straight to the retreat via Santa Cruz.

Had I not taken this route I would not have rounded the bend by Royal Bank in Maraval (Boissiere) and seen a net hanging from the roof of a building with a Rainbow trapped in it (I now see all grey pigeons as Rainbows). The poor thing was flapping helplessly in the afternoon sun and everyone stuck in the traffic was no doubt seeing it. I rounded the bend and pulled my car in front of the building. The businesses were all closed except for one that was selling water scooters. I asked them if they had a broom that I could use to free a trapped pigeon.

They looked at me in that dry Trini way, as if I was mad. "No, we don't have a broom."

"There's a pigeon trapped in a net at the back of the building," I said.

"Dat net is dere for dat purpose," the man told me. Apparently it's to prevent the pigeons from going under the awnings of the roof ... but somehow this one must have gotten trapped. "Leave it. When de man come he go deal with it."

Certain that this meant they would kill it or leave it to die, I said: "That is animal cruelty," and proceeded to the back of the building.

The side of the building was sheer, with a tiny ledge, about one inch wide. The steep side dropped to a large canal below. I am afraid of heights, so I could not go onto the ledge. I asked the we-have-no-broom man (w.h.n.b.) if he would climb out and he said no. My only option was to grip on to a wrought iron gate-like thing and lean over the canal, pulling at the net, trying to yank it down. The w.h.n.b. stood behind me, telling me that the wrought iron gate was loose and I could fall down into the canal.

The more I yanked, the more the pigeon got flustered and kept beating up. Her neck was poking through a hole in the net. Her feet and wings were through other holes. She was truly trapped. I stopped yanking, realising the net was securely positioned and that my actions could kill the bird (e.g. she could break her neck or die of fright) rather than set her free.

My attempts to get a broom anywhere were futile. People passing in cars were either calling out or looking at me like I was crazy. Just then, someone I know and have not seen in ages, came walking by. I told him about the pigeon and took him to see it. When he saw the steep drop he grew pale (also afraid of heights) ... but he felt pained to see the trapped bird. He somehow found a broom and leaned across to try and poke it out of the net. This was not working. Cat calls from the passing traffic were growing louder.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, a man in an orange t-shirt appeared and without a word, nimbly jumped up on to the one inch ledge. He walked out a bit on the tips of his toes and started to pull at the net. He was struggling, hanging with one hand onto the shaky gate. At one point he even let it go, to move precariously closer to the pigeon.

I then remembered the scissors I had in my bag. "Do you want scissors?" I asked him (even though the w.h.n.b. man had told me early on not to cut the net when I said I was going to).

The orange t-shirt man stuck out his hand and I placed the scissors into his palm. After about ten minutes of cutting, I heard a flapping noise and saw the grey and white of the pigeon streaking freely across the canal ... and out of sight.

The feeling I got in my heart cannot be described.

I couldn't wait for the man to get off the ledge. As soon as his feet touched the ground, I grabbed him and hugged him tightly and said: "Thank you!!! Thank you!! Thank you!! You are a hero!!" He couldn't even speak. He seemed overwhelmed by my enthusiasm and gratitude. He stood there beaming and smiling with grey and white feathers all over his face and then just went his way without ever saying a word.

It was a miracle and a huge symbol all at once. I was extremely light and happy. (A feeling which only intensified during the yoga weekend). As I drove off after the Rainbow rescue, I thought: "That's one of the best things that ever happened to me!" At that moment it felt like the best day of my life. It struck me then with surety: everything really does happen for a reason.

Had my car window not been broken by the gardeners, I would not have had the scissors with me.