brother's clover

A dear friend of mine recently reminded me of the "signs" our loved ones send us when they leave this earth.

No matter how logical my mind believes itself to be, the signs, I never sought, refused to be ignored.

I lost my brother, March 31, 2000.

And on one beautiful spring day, shortly after his passing, I walked solemnly through a lush clover patch with my small daughter and my friend Don. Breaking the silence, I said, "Wouldn't it be funny if the first clover I pick is four-leafed?"

I bent down, and there, amongst the clusters and clumps of three-leaf clovers, was the first one my hand hovered over ... a four-leaf clover. Don was amazed, and stood dumbfounded for a moment. Then, we both laughed stupidly.

The clover, I keep pressed in a book. Today, I took it out. It's the one pictured here. Because it is fragile and means so much, I've decided to encase it in clear tape, so that it looks like a bookmark of sorts and will hold its shape.

Perhaps, it is all coincidence.

Whatever the case, this is my brother's clover. I won't ever forget.