(Bridgman, Michigan) A memory at Christmas time of Mom: When she was living at Woodland Terrace, she wanted me to mount a bird feeder outside her window so she could sit in her chair and watch the birds appear. Easier said than done for this son with ten thumbs. But mount the bird feeder I finally did, and, lo and behold, one of the first birds to appear at Mom’s feeder was a male Rose-breasted Grosbeak in glorious breeding plumage. Mom was delighted, and I was excited. So much so, that I grabbed my camera and snapped what is probably the best shot I have ever taken of a bird. Mom’s bird. A Red-breasted Grosbeak. A calling bird. A bird that is calling to me during these 12 days of Christmas and saying: “Your mother’s memory will live on as long as she lives in your heart.” And, with a rose-breasted reminder like that, how could Mom not live on in my heart?