Carpe Noctem

The sun was bright in my eyes.

I blinked back the harsh rays as I tried to regain my vision and figure out where I was.

All I could see was yellow.

The air smelled fresh, like damp earth, and sweet, like the buttercup flowers that were littered across the field I was resting in.

Buttercups were my favorite flowers growing up. My mother always told me that they were lucky, magic flowers, and that if you held them under your chin and your chin glowed yellow, there would be a fortune in your near future.

I wasn't sure how I got to this field, but I knew I needed to get home.

I made my way toward home, the warm breeze almost feeling like water flowing over my body.

When I got home, I stopped at the willow tree outside of our kitchen window. It was painfully bright outside but strangely dark inside the house. So dark, I could barely make out the figure of my mother standing at the sink doing dishes. It took me a while to realize she was crying.

Hiding amongst the wispy tendrils of the tree, I made sure that I could see her, but she could not see me. Watching her cry, I felt a pang in my chest and wanted nothing more than to go in and hug her––but I could not go in.

I stayed hidden in the drapes of the willow tree until I grew tired. Eventually, my eyes felt like they were carrying the weight of boulders, and soon, I felt myself drift away.

____________________________________________________

When I woke up, I was no longer by the willow tree. My eyes sensitive to the hot sun, I realized that I was once again in the field of buttercups.

I was confused but calm. The buttercups were so beautiful. A sea of bright golden petals, I felt like I could stay there forever.

But I had to get home.

I made the journey home and stopped once again at the willow tree outside of the kitchen. This time, I could hear activity, the hustle and bustle of a busy household going through the motions of a daily routine.

Through the window, I saw my father. He was walking toward the sink with a nearly empty cup of coffee. He paused at the sink and looked out the window, mug still in hand. For a moment, I thought he saw me.

But he didn't. His gaze was so long and forlorn it was clear that he wasn't actually seeing anything. Lost in thought, he dumped the remainder of his coffee in the sink and said his goodbyes to my mother and sister before walking out the door to start his day.

I wanted so badly to go in and hug him, too. But I couldn't. The warmth of the sun overhead making me tired, I rested against the willow tree, only intending to close my eyes for a few minutes...

____________________________________________________

I woke up again in the field of buttercups.

I made the trip home quickly this time, the warm wind whipping in my face the whole way. When I got there, I could hear my mother laughing from the kitchen. I could see her and my sister through the window above the sink, chatting together, both of them with their arms deep in mixing bowls.

Pies. I could already smell the cinnamon.

I could see my father standing behind them, telling them how he couldn't wait for a bite of that pie. Oh, and how I wanted to taste that pie too. But I couldn't go in.

I began to grow frustrated. Why was I so warm? Was it the heat of the oven wafting out from the kitchen? Was it the midday sun? Why couldn't I go in?

____________________________________________________

I don't think I even knew I fell asleep the next time I woke up in the field of buttercups. Had I drifted off and not realized?

But this time, I wasn't alone.

Sitting in the field directly across from me was a massive brown owl. It was so big, it didn't look like it could possibly be real. The owl's large, yellow eyes looked at me with a piercing gaze that had me frozen in place, afraid to break away from its commanding stare.

"Do you know where you are?" asked the owl.

"I'm in a field of buttercups," I replied. It seemed obvious.

"Yes, but why are you in a field of buttercups?" prodded the owl.

"Because buttercups are my favorite. If you hold them up to your chin and it glows yellow, there's a fortune in your future," I said, again feeling like the answer was obvious.

The owl paused for a moment, his yellow eyes matching the color of the field almost perfectly.

"What kind of fortune do you think is in your future?" the owl asked carefully.

I thought long and hard about it, and finally stated, "My family. I want to see my family and hug them and laugh with them and make pies with them. They are my fortune."

The owl looked at me, almost sad. Was it pity? "I'm sorry to tell you, but that is not your fortune."

I stared at the owl perplexedly. What else could my fortune possibly be?

"Do you ever wonder why you cannot go home?" The owl asked. "Why you must watch your family alone from the willow tree, and why you awake every morning again in this field of buttercups?"

I shook my head. I wasn't really sure why I hadn't questioned it before.

"Look down at your hands," the owl said calmly.

My hands? What did my hands have to do with anything? I looked down, and to my surprise, I found there were actually no hands there at all.

Where my hands once were, I saw a fan of cream-colored plumage, dotted with varying spots of brown and beige. No, these were not hands at all––they were wings.

Speechless and confused, I looked at the brown owl for an answer.

"Carpe Noctem," said the owl.

"Wh–what? What does that mean?" I asked desperately.

"You must seize the night," the owl replied.

And then, without another word, the massive owl flapped its wings with a loud gust of wind and took flight. It flew off into the horizon, its silhouette quickly eclipsed by the bright rays of the sun.

____________________________________________________

The trip home this time was a bit different than before. This time, I realized that the warm air felt like it was streaming around my body like water because I was flying.

When I got to the willow tree, all I could hear in my mind was the owl's words: "Carpe Noctem."

Seize the night. What could that mean?

I waited until I saw my sister again at the kitchen window. She was putting dishes in the sink, remnants of what looked like a family dinner.

She looked out the window, and just like my father did before, seemed to look right at me. Although I knew from the last time that she couldn't be.

"Mom! Dad! Come look at this!" I could hear my sister exclaim.

Soon the window was filled with both my sister and my parents, all looking out the window at something in the willow tree.

"Look! Do you see that barn owl?! It's right there! In the willow tree!" To my shock, she was pointing directly at me.

Frozen with uncertainty, I watched them as they all stared back at me, mouths agape.

I could see the tears first begin to fall from my sister's face. Then my mother's. Even my father's eyes were welling up. Why were they so sad and surprised to see me?

"I told you," my sister said. "I always knew she would come back as an owl! I know this is her visiting us. This is a sign!"

Suddenly, it all began to make sense. I looked back down at my hands––no, my wings––and realized what the big brown owl meant when it had told me to seize the night.

I realized what I had to do.

I waited in the willow tree for a long time. I waited there until I could see the hot sun begin to set and turn the sky into vibrant washes of pink, purple, and orange. I stayed there fighting sleep until the sun was eventually replaced by the biggest, brightest, and shiniest moon I had ever seen.

Looking up at the moon, a brilliant diamond set among a sparkling canopy of stars, I noticed the big brown owl on another branch of the willow tree.

With its large eyes that seemed to know all, the owl simply looked at me and said, "are you ready?"

And with one final look through the kitchen window––where I could see my mother turning the lights off and my father and sister walking upstairs to turn in for the night––I realized it was time for me to go.

Looking back at me with comforting eyes of liquid gold, the big brown owl left the willow tree and took flight towards the shining silver dollar in the sky.

And then, with a feeling of peace crashing over me like a tidal wave, I finally ascended and followed the owl into the night.