Smoke Signals

The tiny battery powered alarm clock on my bedside table read 6:54 - six minutes before it's sharp warning would sound, before the dogs and cats nestled around me would leap into full and immediate wakefulness and begin the morning campaign. But it was still dark and everything in me wanted to close my eyes again and pretend I hadn't seen the small digital dial, that I had still had several hours before morning and before another Monday dawned. Several sets of eyes were watching me to see which direction I would take but none would stir without a signal. Six minutes wasn't worth it, I decided, and crawled out of the warmth. A half dozen or so assorted small animals accompanied me and each beat me to the back door and the food bowls. The morning had begun.

The language of signals is universal in many aspects. Without even remembering when we learned, we all understand traffic signals, handshakes, a tipped cap, brake lights, directionals, salutes, any circle with a slash through it, a nod, a padlocked door, a gesture to sit, flashing lights on an ambulance, a finger to the lips. The more subtle signals we send and receive, especially the ones we're not completely aware of, is a trickier area. A wink, a warning glance, tears, a smile, being routinely late, what we choose to wear, posture and body language, a raised voice, dimmed lights or
even something as simple as a held door - these call for interpretation and too many times what we see or hear is not what is or what was meant.

Not all of us have hidden agendas or ulterior motives. My friend, Tricia, is a direct sort of person. She usually says exactly what she thinks and you can depend on her to say exactly what she means. She believes that if you are at A and want to go to B, you need not visit C, M, and X along the way. She struggles with the indirect among us frequently, I think because those of us who know her, know that we can pass her the buck and kill two birds with one stone - she will go to the source instead of to someone else and she will tackle whatever the problem may be directly. She is
something of a rarity in this with most people we know. She will not, as she says, join in the circle of passing it on to the next person. If she receives a signal she doesn't understand, she is far more likely to ask than am I. It's not exactly bravery although I often see it as such, but more a built in curiosity combined with common sense. If she were a crow, she'd fly straight - I doubt she'd be able to help it.