A Universe In Flight

There are things I never said to you. And more I know you never said to me. We’d stay up late, our little secret, and talk about our favorite animals, create stories from our own inside jokes. We’d talk about fears and those famous people we’d have dinner with if we could.

We traded in almosts. Almost divulging ourselves. There was love, you could feel it, but it never passed our lips. It stayed inside, our bodies telling the story for us, but our minds never letting it be known. The tension of words held back seeping into each shared breath.

I held on tight to the way you made me feel wild, finally. A beast that had been waiting to be awakened since she learned hibernation kept her safe. This was love, or maybe it was the only kind I knew- unpredictable- but wow did it feel good. All I wanted was more. More of your smiles. More of those twinkly eyes. More flying. More of the way you made me feel safe and free at the same time. All I wanted was you.

And then you were gone. All of you. With all of me. Music was hard to listen to. Not just a favorite song, but all of it. For you, my unrequited love, were living, breathing melody. Everything you did sung me home.

Years have passed and I can count the tangible things I have of you on two hands. Most of it was unexplainable, palpable between us two alone. I remember how you loved country music. How we laughed. How your words seemed to keep me afloat. How my heart expanded to meet your aliveness.

I remember your favorite animal, a barn owl. How it always surprised me that you, a monstrosity of energy, would choose such a silent silhouette. How you, so grand, would choose an animal who didn’t ask to be noticed. An animal that wanted to stay hidden. Didn’t want be found.

But there was always something underneath your surface, your smile, your confidence. A gaping hole I knew too well and tried so very hard to fill. Or at least have you tell me who started the digging. But you were stalwart, a roaring lion who would defend his pride through bared, gentle teeth.

Is that how you really felt, like that owl? Like you wanted to disappear, let the cold of the snow hide you? And yet here you were, fighting, to not let your past succumb you. To never be unseen again.

You said they were seen when they were meant to be. That the universe was alive in that singular moment of graceful flight, whether or not you were lucky enough to witness it. Then you laughed, as if to take it back, because any time you opened up about anything beyond human, you’d tried to rewind the tape. As if that was some weird mistake for you to connect like that. With the world. With me.

You, the barn owl, never wanting to be truly seen, only seen when you intended to be. But sometimes your feathers would fall and I’d like to catch them. Place them in my book of memories and wonder if that would be the last bit of wildness I’d find.

Until it was. Until your feathers were the only thing I had left, trying to piece them together and make wings of those moments. Trying to fly once again.

It took me years to realize you were a reflection of who I wanted to be. The owl turned lion that was mirrored in the frozen lake where I went to look at myself. I looked, shivering from the inside and not knowing how to light my fire again. Cold and in disbelief that I’d ever find warmth, passion, home again.

And then it was time. Time to stop being where you lived in every window I passed and thing I did. Time to be free, even if my wings were still damaged. So I packed few things, making my very bones hollow, and put them in my little white hatchback with tan seats. My own barn owl. Silent. Small. Taking me away from the places that made me disappear into myself and into new ones where, hopefully, the universe will have me be seen, reminding me I'm still alive in this hollow boned body. Reminding me how to bring my wild back.

Eventually, I sat in the place I wanted to go forever. Alone. The one I always told you I’d drive to. Wide expanses of craggy mountains where wolves and bison and foxes roamed. Where waterfalls carried wishes and the earth bubbled with so much heat I might absorb it back into my own soul.

But the world was quiet this time of year and I had yet to see much life. I just felt my own, slowly pumping like little wing beats, the only thing keeping me going. This and the small fire I sat by, alone.

Until I wasn’t.

I heard it first. That indeterminable sweep of gentleness that could only have been felt in this deafening silence. The scratch of talons on wood. Earth’s chanting music echoing almost imperceptibly from a white chest. And there you were, looking down at me with soulful eyes, awakening my wild. There you were, that barn owl, seen exactly when you were meant to be.

I understand, I surrender. I, too, am an owl. A lifetime of grace and magic. A universe in flight in this one, destined body.