K. Preston Migaki

A Mother's Memories

The large picture window is my portal these days. As I look out, I wonder how long before he gets home. It would be soon now. I know because I can hear the barn owl beginning his nightly serenade. Sounds like fingernails on a chalkboard. Not like the lovely call of the Great Horned Owls hooting to each other across the frozen fields I heard when I was young. As I listen to its shrill screams and shrieks I remember little Frank was afraid of the owls. He wouldn’t let us crack his windows open in summer, afraid the owls would come into his room and carry him away.