She laughed. “Of course I didn’t. But I wanted to do so. And don’t be thinking that I’ll do it every morning now.”

We entered Ms. Birdie’s kitchen—a conglomeration of so many colors of yellow, I thought the sun had taken residence. The countertops were pale vanilla ice cream yellow, the walls canary, the cabinets bright. The sweet smell of eggs, sausage, and something spicy I thought was cilantro filled the room.

Birdie placed the dishes on the kitchen island. “Dig in.”

We filled our plates to overflowing and sat at the round glass top table in the corner of the room.

“Are you happy you moved here full-time?” I asked.

“Yes. Yes, I am. You know, I moved here right after Lyle passed away.” She stared off and her eyes flashed with tears, and just as suddenly were dry. “He was devoted to this place, but he didn’t ever want to live here full-time. He was so tangled in the Atlanta world.” She swiped her hand through the air. “So, the jubilee … did you enjoy it?”

“It was amazing. Truly. I’ve never seen anything like it,” I said.

Birdie opened a drawer so full of junk, I didn’t know how she found the pink pad of paper she placed on the kitchen table. She licked the end of a pencil (I’ve never understood why people do this) and started to make a list. I wanted to laugh—a soul mate, I thought—but I didn’t make a noise, I just watched and listened.

“So here’s the explanation,” Birdie said. “No one is really sure why the jubilee happens, but there are certain things that must happen.”

She wrote, The Bay of the Holy Spirit, and then she looked up at me. “That’s what the Spaniards called this Mobile Bay. And this is the only place you can find a jubilee.”

“Mother,” Sadie interrupted, “there’s another.”

“Doesn’t count,” Birdie said, and leaned toward me. “They say it happens in Tokyo Bay, but it doesn’t matter because you can’t eat the fish or shrimp. Not a real jubilee if you can’t partake of the sacrifice.”

Then Birdie wrote, 1860. She didn’t look at me when she said, “That is the year of the first known jubilee, but of course there were ones before that one. Just because something isn’t known doesn’t mean it isn’t or wasn’t already there.”

Then she wrote: 1. There must be an eastern wind.