Signs From The Squirrel
Squirrels are my spirit animal.
It is no secret amongst those closest to me, that I LOVE squirrels. My most memorable encounter was sitting on the south rim of the Grand Canyon as a young teen, enjoying an ice cream cone, when a wild squirrel jumped right into my lap. Of course, the National Park Service posts signs throughout insisting that people not feed the animals, but this guy was not taking “no” for an answer. I was startled by his fearlessness and loved it at the same time. He meant no harm and neither did I. We trusted each other. So I continued to enjoy my ice cream while he nibbled on the cone from the bottom upwards.
During the time that I was pregnant with my son I lived in a quaint little 4-plex off of Sand Hill Road in Menlo Park. My unit included a decent-sized, fenced-in yard that backed up to a neighborhood park. I’d often sit and watch the squirrels scurry across the fence or rustle in the giant eucalyptus trees above. They were a part of my every day life.
After my son passed I began to receive regular “visits” from one particular squirrel. How do I know it was the same one each time? I don’t have any scientific proof, but IYKYK. Squirrely (as I called him) would always come alone, sit on the window sill outside my dining room, and tap on the glass. We’d make eye contact and just watch each other for minutes. I think he was the underdog of his scurry. I sure felt like one, too, and I think we both understood that about each other.
I started leaving little bits of squirrel-friendly goodies on the ledge, then sat inside and watched outside our window as he’d run up and snack. One day I noticed that a pack of black crows were chasing Squirrely away in order to steal the food. I found a way to outsmart them by hiding Squirrely’s snacks in the concrete planter next to the front door. The crows couldn’t (or wouldn’t?) get past the shrubbery growing out of it, so Squirrely’s snacks were safe from harm. Now, I know it sounds crazy, but I swear he looked me dead in the eyes and said, “Thank you.”
In the months afterward, as I continued to grieve for my son, Squirrely kept me company. There was something about his presence that comforted me in a way that was different from all the years of day-to-day squirrel encounters. And I couldn’t help but wonder if Squirrely carried the spirit of my son. My beautiful Grey Squirrel.
I purchased my very first home in the months after Greyson’s passing, when I felt strong enough to move away from the area that protected us for so long. The hardest part of leaving was knowing that Squirrely would have to stay behind. One day, as I was packing up the house, Squirrelly showed up . . . with a friend! Until then he had always come alone. Now, he finally felt safe enough to bring a buddy. Maybe it was his way of telling me that it was okay to go and that he wouldn’t be alone?
As fate would have it, one of Greyson’s nurses had been looking for a place to rent in the area, which would offer a much shorter commute to the hospital. We made arrangements with the landlord to transfer my rental agreement and the place was hers as soon as I moved out. We stayed in touch for quite a while afterwards, and do you know that she continued to care for my Squirrely?
My new home was situated deep within the hills of California’s Central Valley. Every day I’d drive that country road, watching squirrels and chipmunks play their own version of “Frogger” as the cars went by. One weekend afternoon I was driving the road home and noticed the car ahead of me hit one of the squirrels. I slowed my car and watched as a second squirrel walked up, slipped his hands under the head of his injured companion, and pulled his friend out of the road. Tears poured down my cheeks. The devastation on the living squirrel’s face was heart-stopping. It reminded me of the moment I realized my son was gone - just sitting - holding onto his lifeless body, not knowing where to go from there. We made eye contact and all I could do was whisper to that squirrel, “I promise it will be okay. Not now. Not tomorrow. Not for a long time. But one day it will be okay.”
Last year we moved out of California and settled in southern Oregon. I remember our realtor commenting that there aren’t a lot of squirrels within the local neighborhoods and I am sure the look on my face said, “WTF?” Turns out she wasn’t wrong.
I’ve had a lot on my mind lately and keep wondering if now is the right time to take a chance on something new. As I drove to pick my daughter up from daycare the other evening I noticed something moving off to the right side of the road. As I got closer I could see . . . a lone gray squirrel on the curb. THE ONE AND ONLY SQUIRREL I HAVE SEEN IN ALMOST A YEAR. His arm stretched out like he was trying to hail a cab. I knew he was saying, “Go for it!” And so I will.
#SignsFromTheSquirrel
4/1/24 UPDATE: Driving the same route this evening, I saw that same lone squirrel in the same exact spot. I’m convinced he’s someone special.
