Late Sunday afternoon my dogs started barking and when they kept it up I finally went to the window to see what was going on.  Down in the little yard there was a small bird perched on the poop scoop.  Its back was to me and it had one leg and one wing stretched to the ground.  It was very still.  I quietly opened the screen door, tiptoed down the deck stairs and squatted down behind it.  I was sure it must be injured.  I put my hands softly around it and as I lifted it up it flew through the chain link fence and disappeared.  I puzzled over that odd encounter until I arrived at work on Monday and heard about Rosanna.  I will always believe that she stopped by to say goodbye and to let me know all was well.

When we lived in France we would often visit Paris and Rouen. I was very impressed by the statues of a strong woman on a horse. I was only four or five and every time we went I  asked a teenage Ro who it was; "it's me!"  she always said. She had me convinced the whole time we lived there. Ro and I often watched the movie of Joan of Arc together and Joan of Arc always reminded me of Ro, bold and independent. Even though Ro was joking with me, as the years rolled on it become more apparent that she really was that strong woman on the horse.