birds of a feather

"Is it a jay?" he asked looking out my bedroom window. The plump bluebird that'd been living in my holly tree was noisy as usual. The morning was bright already at 6:30 and the jay, if he was a jay, was squawking his typical song.
"I don't know. Some kind of jay, I think," I replied. "Someone told me the name for the noisy ones like that, but I can't remember."
My friend stepped closer to the window, looking hard. The thick, bristling leaves make the holly tree paradise for birds--safe from predators and surrounded by glossy, red berries. At least the jay always seemed happy there to me.
"I think there's two," he said with childlike excitement. He pulled his fiance, one of my oldest friends, to his side. "Yeah, look, there's two. I think they have a nest."
I watched them watching--two dear friendships to me borne out of one. They are great together. I've know her since I was fourteen;I met him about five years ago, just after they started dating. The fact that he would be a friend of mine on his own, without her as the connection, makes me feel even more certain about it. I love them both and this fall I will be in their wedding. I've watched a lot of friends get engaged and married in the past few years. I try hard not to place odds on which couples I think will make it and which won't; that seems mean-spirited and too cold and typical for a divorcee (I am divorced but refuse to be typical in that catagory). But, I've got my secret opinions. I find myself asking could I be in that marriage? A lot of the time the answer is an unequivocal, no.
They say no relationship is perfect. Even the couples you admire are quick with the disclaimers, well, we have our issues--we fight sometimes, too, you know. It's the relationship equivalent of knocking on wood. I don't know what makes some relationships work and others not. My feeling these days is it's all about tendons between two people who love each other--the stuff that isn't easily explained but unmistakable when you feel it. Couples come together and it looks the same--meet, find a tree, make a nest. You have to look closer to see the things that keep them together.
My friend pointed out the window to show his future bride the glimpse of a nest and dull-feathered female jay resting deep in the holly tree branches. “Look,” he said. “He has a wife.”