The Search For Home

Gently, softly, gliding through the air, snow fell from the cold, bleak winter sky. Blanketing the ground in a tender fleece. Tenderness that is deceptive to say the least, giving the illusion of firm solidity. Only to have the mirage dissipate under the weight of formulated matter. Formulated matter that leaves behind traces and steps leading to a path unknown to the knower. A path chosen by the one who captions her soul and the masters of her fate. She is the one who leads and does not follow. She takes one step then two, perceiving progressive forward movement without knowing the conclusion.

Her eyes well with tears as she marches through the snow, praying with each step forward that her foot will land on firm and solid ground. She had walked under the blistering heat of the sun in times past. She had trenched through the pouring rain that bucketed from the sky, but never had she stepped with as much uncertainty as day she moved forward through the snow. “ I’m not going to make it” she thought. “ This is too hard, I should turn around.” The words echoed in her mind. Words of defeat, words of insufficient strength. Words that when her journey had begun were met with confrontation. She was a fighter, she had fought, and many times she had won. Now, the greatest challenge she faced was not the uncertainty of the steps taken, but rather the internal dialogue that caused a precarious shadow to be cast before her. The shadow so great that is caused the sparkle and glimmer of the luminescent snow to dissipated into what seem like murky mud. Yet, forward she moved, one progressive step at a time. She stopped and turned to look back over her left shoulder. Seeing how far she had come gave her strength. Strength that added a new narrative to the internal dialogue that wagged war in her mind. The new voice said “ look how far you have come” “ you have inside of you all that you need to make this trip” “You are enough”. “I am enough” her voice whispered in the wind. “ I am enough and I can do this” the words she spoke dispelled the darkness from her mind and encouraged herself. As in times past when her ears heard the words proceeding from her mouth, her heart gained courage. It was that courage that would carry her on this journey.

The name she had been given at birth was Issa Lorain Freeman. Issa was born on a rural Kentucky homestead 1963. Her mother a housekeeper by trade, and her father as unknown as the weather. Some people would call him a traveling man. Issa just called him a mystery. A mystery not spoken about in her household, and especially not spoken about by her mother. Issa’s mother was a tall strong, stoic woman whose rough hands told a story all their own. Issa was an only child, and the woman she called mama had no issue letting Issa know that her conception was a mistake. The byproduct of a peculiar predicament and a man passing through the night. Stopping by only to leave a deposit of pleasure and pain.

Pleasure and pain was house that was built by the man who to Issa was a mystery. A man who she now found herself journeying through the snow to find. Issa’s mother had taken a turn for worse in middle of the night, which sent Issa on a journey to find the man who she had never even known to have a name. Issa’s mother was gravely ill. She had been sick for some time, Issa had a suspicion that the spirits her mother drank to calm her nerves had done more harm than good. Issa’s mother whisper in her daughter’s ear “ Charles Ray Pickens is his name, he lives just up the road in a yellow brick house with a red wooden barn in the back, go find him.” “Yes, ma’am” She replied.

Issa gathered her thick winter coat, put on the largest pair of leather boots she could find, and told her mother “ I will be back.” Little did Issa know, how hard and long the journey just up the road would be. Issa knew that when she returned her mother would be gone, Issa had heard rattle of death in her mother’s voice. Issa at the age of 12 was now all alone in the world on journey to find the man called Charles Ray Pickens.

Issa knew with every step she took, it was her against the world. There was no one to come and save her. Issa knew that she was enough, just as she had always been. Issa pushed forward fighting for her life. Less than 5 miles up the road stood a quite yellow brick house with what looked like a large barn in the back. Issa could see the house faintly and recognized it form her mother’s instructions. As she got closer and closer to the house she hear a faint sound coming from the barn. A smooth, and soothing melody being played as if it were a harp. The sound, soothing the fear that gripped Issa’s heart as she came closer to the steps of the yellow brick house. Her coat was soaked, and her feet cold from the moisture that had penetrated the leather of her boots. As she drew closer to the house the soothing sound rang louder. The sound was coming from the barn behind the yellow brick house. Issa peered at the barn and caught two light filled eyes peering back at her. It was an owl. Not, just any owl, it was the owl that Issa had seen in her dreams many times before that night. The owl in the barn was Issa’s guide. Issa’s guide to peace. The owl sang to Issa, and Issa’s heart heard the melody clear. It was a melody that said “ Welcome Home.”