After completing my psychiatry residency and practising for a time in Quebec and Maryland, I recently moved to Washington, D.C. – a transition that brought both professional renewal and personal reflection. In the quiet winter days following the move to beautiful Logan Circle, as I was settling into my new home office, a chance encounter took place that would unexpectedly reawaken my understanding of care, connection, and choice.
It was early February, in the midst of a snowstorm. My Snow Fountain Weeping Cherry and Persian Ironwood trees – purchased during a winter sale – had just been delivered. I had planned to plant them in the garden, but the frozen ground delayed my plans. I placed them by the window in my home office and stepped back to look outside, trying to find the best location for planting them later. To my surprise, I noticed a fragile blue bird just outside the window, trembling in the snow. Her tail and one wing were damaged, likely from a predator. She was alert but weak, her vivid plumage dulled by the cold. I brought her in, took a photo, and searched online, as I had never seen such a bird before. She was a Blue Jay—native to the Americas. As someone originally from Iran, this was my first encounter with one. Hoping only to offer momentary refuge, I gave her food, water, a warm place, and named her Jayjay.