Light as Feathers

The silence was thick in the 2007 Honda Civic Hatchback. They’d been driving for nearly two hours and not a word had been exchanged between father and son. The countryside flashed by in blurs of lush green forests and golden canola fields—peppered every now and then with tall silver grain silos and brick-red barns.

Daniel couldn’t keep the memories at bay.

“I spy with my little eye…something beginning with ‘C’!”

“Cow!”

“That’s right Nathanial! You’re too good at this game.”

“You picked cow last time Mama!”

“Did I? Well, they’re just too cute. Like you!”

The faded ripples of Nathanial and his mother’s laughter echoed mockingly in Daniel’s mind. He gritted his teeth and swallowed hard. Even the radio won’t work out here. He thought dully. Anything. Anything to block it out. His eyes flicked to the rear-view mirror where Nathanial sat in stony silence, cheeks streaked with tears, nose covered in unwiped snot. Clutching onto his stuffed barn owl like it was the last lifeline in a sea of despair. He hadn’t moved since Daniel had finally got him into the car.

When negotiating had failed, his six-year-old had resorted to what all desperate children do. The hail-Mary of tantrums lasted 30-minutes before Daniel lost his tempered and stuffed a very unwilling Nathanial into the car. In the ensuing chaos, the stuffed barn owl had been thrown onto the ground in a fit of fury. Daniel was this close to driving away without it. But the terror in his son’s eyes at being parted from the beloved stuffy was too much. He doesn’t deserve to lose anything else.

The once pure white barn owl was now a more well-loved shade of grey. It had gone everywhere with Nathanial since his mother had given it to him six months ago. Eliza had been obsessed with owls. The whole house had decorative owls in nearly every patch of available space. Owl figurines. Owl paintings. Owl-themed welcoming mats.

Daniel didn’t mind. He didn’t really have an opinion on the décor, and if it made Eliza happy, then it made him happy. His wife had a love of all living creatures, she was the gentlest soul. But owls spoke to her on a deeper level. Something about their wise eyes, she’d said once. Daniel’s lips turned upward in the slightest smile as he thought about their last conversation.

“Let me guess, another owl?”

“Yes.” Eliza smiled brightly, hazel eyes lighting up as she playfully dangled the shopping bag in front of her husband. “But this one isn’t for me.”

“Oh?” Daniel raised his eyebrows, then looked at the bag dubiously. “You shouldn’t have.”

“It’s not for you!” Eliza giggled, the sound a soothing balm to Daniel’s ears. “I know my man doesn’t quite feel the same way about owls as I do.”

She took a step closer and held the shopping bag close to her chest, looking up at Daniel through long eye lashes. Nearly 10 years of marriage and she still flirted shamelessly with her husband.

“I have a different gift for you.”

Eliza’s hands slipped gently down Daniel’s chest, lightly passing over the front of his blue jeans before dancing away again as she moved to grab her purse.

“You’ll have to wait for your present though, I have to go pick up Nathanial from school.”

Daniel let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, and grabbed Eliza’s waist, pulling her into him and whispering in her ear.

“Hurry back. I love you.”

“And I love you. See you soon.”

The smile slipped from Daniel’s lips as he tried to push away the memories of what happened next. He’d never get his present, let alone hold his wife again. His arms ached at the thought of her warm body pressed up against his. Of her breath on his cheek. I love you. The sound of her voice.

“Are we there yet?”

Daniel was brought abruptly out of his reverie by Nathanial’s petulant tone. Still mad, but at least he’s speaking.

“Not quite bud. Soon though.” Daniel paused, struggling to think of what else he could say. What else is there to say, anyway? He tried to catch Nathanial’s eye in the rear-view.

“Do you want to play I Spy?” Even as the words fell out of his mouth Daniel knew he had made a mistake. Fuck. Nathanial’s glare into the back of the driver seat could have cut glass. Daniel sighed. Silence it is, then.

***

They’d finally arrived, and now Nathanial was refusing to get out of the car. Daniel didn’t have the energy to go through another tantrum, so he patiently unloaded the few possessions they had brought with them. The cabin was cold. It hadn’t been used in, well, more than six months. Not since…

Maybe it was a mistake to come here. Daniel had desperately needed a change of scene. He worked from home, so it wasn’t difficult to relocate. And he was tired. So very tired of friends skirting around what happened, or worse, asking him if he was alright. Of course I’m not fucking alright. Tired of watching everyone move on while he and Nathanial were still stuck in their grief. It didn’t help that Nathanial was getting bullied at school. The last time Daniel had been called in by the school to talk about his son had been the final straw.

“We’re concerned about Nathanial, Mr. Reading.”

“Daniel’s fine.”

“Right, Daniel. Did you hear what I said? We’re concerned about Nathanial.”

“I heard you.”

“It’s just that…you know he’s being picked on.”

“That sounds like the bully’s problem. Not Nathanial’s. Have you talked to that kid’s parents?”

“Yes, yes we have. Of course. But you see, it’s why Nathanial is getting bullied.”

“I find it hard to believe bullying can be justified in any way.”

“Of course not! Of course not. It’s just, well Mr. Reading—Daniel—Nathanial has been telling the other students that he’s…that he’s found his mom.”

“Nathanial’s mother died. He was in the car when the accident happened. Drunk driver. He knows she’s gone.”

“I know. I’m so sorry Daniel. I really am. But Nathanial seems to think she’s come back. As a barn owl.”

Silent, Daniel had pushed back the old school chair parents were forced to sit in while talking to the teacher. It squeaked noisily on the floor before falling over. Daniel hadn’t bothered to pick it up. Or turn around as the teacher called after him.

Nathanial seems to think she’s come back. As a barn owl.

That night he’d notified work he was relocating, Googled home schooling and pulled Nathanial out of class. It was almost the end of the school year anyway. The following day their bags were packed and well, now we’re here. Daniel looked around the cabin, watching the evening light kiss the old vinyl tiles and faded robin’s egg blue walls. It had been such a happy place. Now it’s, just a place. But a place away from pitying friends, bullies and…that fucking barn owl.

How Nathanial had managed to spot a barn owl in the middle of a city Daniel did not know. But he had. And it had been months and months of Nathanial trying to convince his classmates that his mother had returned. Months. Daniel hadn’t even noticed his son was in denial, he was so deep in his own stages of grief. He’d been through them all. Shock. Guilt. Anger. Depression. And now…not quite acceptance. But not quite depression. Somewhere in between. A purgatory he had no desire to leave, because healing meant forgetting Eliza. And Eliza had been his whole world.

But Nathanial, that was different. He was six. His whole life ahead of him. He had to accept his mother was not coming back. He had to move forward.

It hadn’t been a conversation. Daniel wasn’t great at that part, Eliza had always been better at talking to their son. About school. About owls. About everything. But now she was gone, and Daniel had made his decision.

Little feet stomped on vinyl floors. He’s out of the car then. Huh.

“Hey, take off your boots please.”

Another glare. The boots were thrown unceremoniously onto the floor, before Nathanial stomped into his room and slammed the door. Daniel winced at the noise. I need a drink.

The whisky burned, but the good kind of burn. One that made him remember when it had just been the two of them at the cabin. When he and Eliza would get drunk and skinny dip in the lake, before curling up next to the wood-burning stove and start movies they’d never see the end of.

So many memories. Such a beautiful life. Their wedding. Nathanial’s birth. The quiet moments in between that made life so very good. Holding her hand. Snuggling in bed when Nathanial was small. Cooking together.

All gone.

Daniel finished his whisky, poured another, and unpacked. Kraft Dinner tonight, I think. Even the most stubborn six-year-old was bound to be hungry after such a long trip.

Sure enough, the smell of powdered cheese, milk and noodles brought Nathanial out of his room. He sat glumly at the table while his father dished up. Daniel looked at his son. So small. A child dealing with adult emotions. Every parent wants to protect their child from the world’s harshness. But Daniel didn’t know how to anymore. What can be worse than losing someone you love?

Yet, the silence could not go on. Just get it over with.

“You know buddy, it’s going to be good for us to leave for a bit. Take a break. No more school—I know you were having a tough time—

“How will she find us?”

“What?”

“How will mom find us? You made us leave, and now she won’t be able to find us.”

“Nathanial, that was not your mom. That was a bird. Just an owl.”

“NO. No she was NOT just an owl!”

Daniel felt another tantrum coming on, his son’s bottom lip was trembling perilously.

“I’m sorry buddy, but it was. You mother is dead.”

“You’re wrong, I know it was mom. I know it. She showed me—

“ENOUGH.” Daniel slammed his fists against the table. “Enough Nathanial! Your mother is gone. She is not coming back. Not as a bird, not as anything. The dead are gone forever.”

Nathanial stared accusingly at his father, trying hard not to cry. He grabbed his now cold bowl of Kraft Dinner, pushed his chair back and ran to his room. The door slammed. “I hate you!” Nathanial screamed from behind the door before bursting into heart-wrenching sobs.

Daniel sat at the dinner table in silence, and poured another whisky.

***

Moonlight cascaded into the kitchen. It made otherwise inconspicuous items look holy in its silver glow. The kettle, pots, pans, all radiant. But not as radiant as the woman standing, barefoot, in the middle of the room. Her long hair fell freely around her shoulders, and hazel eyes stared out of a beautiful and familiar face. She wore a long white robe, with large bell sleeves that fell past her hands.

“Eliza?” Daniel stammered. He was still sitting at the kitchen table, empty whisky bottle toppled over precariously on the table’s edge. “Eliza?” He whispered again, his heart telling him his wife was standing right in front of him. His head telling him not to trust a single thing his heart said.

“Am I dreaming?”

Eliza smiled, and walked as if on air towards her husband. She put her hands gently around his face and pulled him into her. Daniel could feel her warmth. Hear her heartbeat.

“I’ve missed you so much,” he whispered into her chest, blinking away tears and holding onto her tightly. Not wanting to ever let her go. Not again.

Gently, Eliza pulled his face towards her. A lock of her hair tickled Daniel’s face as she kissed him. Her hair felt light as feathers.

Abruptly, Daniel woke up. The light in the kitchen was grey. He’d fallen asleep with his head on the table, hand around a whisky glass. He put his hand to his cheek, where he’d felt his wife’s hair brush against him. Just seconds ago. So light, so soft. Like feathers. It felt so real. It felt like it was still there.

Daniel blinked, and turned to see that feathers were indeed brushing against his cheek. White feathers, belonging to a large barn owl perched on his kitchen table.

What the fuck?

Staggering slightly on account of the whisky consumed the night before, Daniel stood up and stared at the owl. His hand glued to his face in disbelief.

“Eliza?” He whispered, scarcely believing what he was seeing. Wait—what he was saying? No, it’s just an owl. An owl in my house. Just an owl…

The owl’s wings fluttered and she—it can’t be—delicately landed on the kitchen counter, staring at Daniel imploringly. He walked towards the owl carefully, not wanting to spook her. Nathanial would love to see this. The owl cocked her head, looking toward the front door. Daniel followed her gaze only to see that it was wide open.

So was Nathanial’s bedroom door.

And his boots were missing.

Daniel’s heart dropped through his stomach. “Nathanial!?” His words broke the quiet and the owl flew through the open door. Daniel didn’t need to check his son’s room to know he was gone. Fuck. Fuck!

Not even stopping to put on his shoes, Daniel ran out into the still June morning. The owl was waiting for him, perched on a nearby birch tree. She paused to look in Daniel’s eyes before flying off toward the adjacent woods. Daniel didn’t hesitate to follow. His heart was telling him not to listen to a single thing his brain said.

Daniel’s feet crunched on grass and moss as he brushed tree branches away from his face, hurrying after the owl. Each time she was about to fly too far out of sight, she paused and waited for Daniel to get just close enough to see her, before opening her expansive wings and taking off again into the pale dawn light. Daniel didn’t know how long he’d been following the owl, or where he was going. His only thought was that he needed to find his son.

It felt like an eternity until the owl stopped flying, settling into the branches of a large pine tree. Why isn’t she flying? Where is Nathanial? Did I really just follow a fucking owl into the middle of the forest? What was I thinking—

Daniel’s mind was spiralling. He ran is fingers through his hair and stared at the owl. She looked back. Deep hazel eyes unblinking. She cocked her head, and Daniel looked down.

“Nathanial.”

There he was, nestled below the pine tree’s lowest branches. His son was curled up in a blue blanket, purloined from his room. One hand clutched his stuffed barn owl, and another his suitcase.

Daniel sighed, and buried his face in his hands. Thank you. Thank you. His hands parted as he looked at the barn owl.

“Thank you,” he said, his voice barely audible over the sounds of the waking forest. “Thank you, my love.”

Wise hazel eyes blinked at Daniel slowly, before a flutter of white wings carried her away. Daniel watched her go. He couldn’t help but feel he’d just had a second chance. A second chance to see his wife. To see his love. And that was enough. Barn owl or not, she was there. Watching over him. Watching over Nathanial.

“Dad?”

“Hey buddy. Went for a little adventure?”

Daniel carefully crouched down and sat beside his son beneath the pine tree. He wrapped Nathanial up in his arms. Breathing in his smell, feeling his little heartbeat.

“I’m sorry,” Nathanial’s muffled voice sniffled into his father’s shirt.

“No,” said Daniel holding his son’s face and looking into his hazel eyes. Hazel, just like his mother’s. “I’m sorry. I haven’t been there for you after your mom died. And…well I don’t know if your mom has returned to us as a barn owl. But what I do know is that she will never leave you. She’ll always be here.”

Daniel placed his hand on his son’s heart.

“She’ll always be with us.”

Nathanial smiled sleepily, resting his head against his father’s chest.

“I know.”

Father and son sat together, each alone to their thoughts—but not alone to each other. Moments passed, and the sun rose higher in the sky. Dawn had broken, and crisp morning light spilled into the forest.

“How will we find our way back?” Nathanial asked his dad, a bit contritely.

Daniel brushed his son’s hair away from his eyes and rested his head against the pine tree’s trunk. A nearby rustling drew his attention.

“I think we’re in good hands,” he gestured towards a nearby copse of trees.

It was the first time he’d seen his son smile in six months. The barn owl cocked her head—ready to lead her boys home.