Grandmothers Warning

Anna

Standing by the open door of my grandmother's room I looked around. Crowded as it was hard to keep my eyes from straying to the bed. I looked from my mother and father to my aunts and uncles trying with all my might to ignore the still form that lay there. The pain and sadness seemed to radiate around the room. Under her old patchwork quilts, my grandmother who had seemed so healthy and vibrant just days ago lay lifeless and cold. The braids that usually adorned her hair were absent, and her dark hair fell over her pillow in waves. In an effort to get out of the room, I forced my feet forward, feeling as if they weighed a thousand pounds. Moving through the house I felt numb as the memories of her play in my head like some old film. While most were amazing moments that I would not trade for the world others made me feel even worse. Trying not to look at the places like the kitchen where we had spent so much time together I rushed through the house. Not caring about the rain I ran outside collapsing to the ground next to the roses that we had planted together so many years before. I finally let the tears come as wave after wave of grief hit me making it nearly impossible to breathe. I stayed there on the ground till I stopped crying and the rain soaked my clothes. While my hands and feet were numb from the cold it didn't compare to the pain I felt inside. My grandmother's words from the week before rang in my ears. "In my culture owls are an omen of death. Where one is death is soon to follow." When I had told her she was silly and it was just an old tale to scare little children she had continued. "The day your grandfather died we had seen an owl the day before perched in that very tree. Anna pay attention to your surroundings and heed the warnings when they come." At the time I had not believed her while I was growing up she was constantly telling me stories. After all, they were just stories, weren't they? But as I reached the door I looked out across her garden. In the dying light, I could just make out the form of a barn owl perched on the fence. Perched in the same place it had been the week before when we had seen it. Seeing it there, panic hit me like a freight train as I rushed into the house praying that I had not seen it. Praying that it had been a trick of the light. Rushing to the big bay window in the kitchen in the garden searching the twilight for any hint of the barn owl; for a moment I believed my grandmother and her crazy stories. As my heart calmed convincing myself that I hadn't seen it and I had to be even crazier than Gran to even for a moment believe. Dropping into a chair as the sunset completely disappeared behind the big mountains I saw the owl swoop down in front of the window close enough that the light from the kitchen reflected off of its wings. Landing on the ground it stood there tall and proud. Its massive wings spread out as if in challenge. I stood there not daring to look away afraid that if I did what I was dreading would come to be. As it disappeared into the night a scream tore through the air.