Owl: Unknown

I cannot get the heat in the car to work. The dial is not stuck or jammed. The heat is just. . . broke. If I knew more about cars or if I cared enough to learn, I think I could fix it. I'm one of those people you know- one that can fix things. All I need to do is learn. Maybe that's how everyone is though- once they learn they too can fix anything. Maybe I'm not all that special in that regard.

I don't really like the heat though. I sweat easily. It's like I have a thick coat of fur on my body. I'm hot when I shouldn't be. I do have thick hair for a woman I suppose. I could take my scarf off as I'm driving to not be as hot perhaps.

See.

I fix things.

I find solutions to problems.

But these are mundane problems. I'm not solving economic or health crises. I'm solving problems that affect me directly.

I guess they are right. I do make everything about me.

I think others know me better than I know myself. I think that's a cliche. Actually, I know that is a cliche.

Is it still a cliche if it's true? When applied to yourself? Or is it then fact? Can a fact and a cliche be synonymous with each other? Does that vary by person?

See.

I like to learn.

I like to know.

What is better than knowing things? What is better than learning?

It is the unknown that scares me. That lurking, ominous shroud of mystery.

For example, I do not know why I'm driving right now. It is winter. It is cold. It is snowing.

It is more than snowing- that is a poor observation. It is actually blizzarding.

Blizzarding? Yes, that's a word.

Well, not a word technically. I added a suffix to the word "blizzard." Does that still make it a word?

See.

So many things I do not know.

This grammar rule, though. . . this is something that I have learned. I've been noticing this lately. My forgetfulness. My thoughts, my learned theories and behaviors. . . they escape me lately.

Sometimes, I forget how to drive. Even when I'm driving. I hope I don't forget that right now.

Sometimes, I forget what I do for work.

Sometimes, I forget how I got to places or why I'm there.

I get trapped in my shroud of the unknown. It covers my eyes for a second, then my conscious wakes up weeks ahead.

I think this time, in this moment, my forgetfulness is worse. My memory. Because I know that I used to know something. And now I don't. And I don't know why. And I don't know what that something is.

I think something bad happened. I don't really know if something bad actually happened, though. I guess I don't "think" something did, I feel as though something did.

Blood. There is blood on my hands.

Is this my blood?

Or someone else's?

I feel it is the latter.

I hate this. Forgetting. I know the answer. But I can't remember it.

I'm driving very fast. I need to slow down. My breathing is getting heavy.

Am I hitting the brake or the gas? I tap my foot. That is the gas, my foot is on the gas. I switch pedals.

Deep breathing. Deep breathing.

Okay, this isn't my blood. How did I get someone else's blood on my hands? Where am I driving from?

Think. Think. Think.

Wait.

Yes. That's it. My sister's. I was at my sister's house. Why? Why was I there?

Oh yes. That's it. Samuel. She has Samuel. Samuel is her son.

Wait.

No.

Samuel is my son.

Why did my sister have Samuel at her house? Or did I bring Samuel there?

Did something happen to my sister? Is this my sister's blood on my hands?

Think. Think. Think.

I am getting hot. I need to roll the window down. Or do I need to take my scarf off? I will do both.

Is my foot still on the gas? Yes. But I'm not going as fast. How fast was I going? I still cannot see that well in the snow. Can I take my scarf off and drive? Yes, yes I can do that because I've done that before. Have I done it in a blizzard before? No, I don't think I've ever done that.

I will leave my scarf on. I will roll the window down.

A stiff, bitter cold slithers through the small crack of the window. It is colder than I expected.

The snow is heavy. I can barely see. But I see something coming towards me.

It's not a car. . . it's an animal. Flying. That's a bird.

No, much bigger than a bird.

That's an owl.

A barn owl.

Barn owls. I know something about them. If a barn owl's baby falls from the nest, the mother will ignore it and the young will die.

It will die alone.

She will not care.

It is not strong enough to live.

Yes. . . the baby dies. . .

This is not my sister's blood. This is. . . Samuel's blood.

What have I done?

Have I done something?

Why do I think I have done something terrible? It is because I know I have done something terrible. The knowing is taking over me. It is unveiling the shroud.

Brake or gas? The car is going faster. The snow is coming down harder.

What have I done?

"I didn't mean to!" I hear screaming.

Wait, that is me. That is me screaming. I am in the car. I am hearing myself scream in my head.

Why? Why am I screaming this?

My sister. I am wailing to her. I relive this memory.

Brake or gas? The car is going faster.

"I DIDN'T MEAN TO!"

I am screaming now. Here. In my car.

Brake or gas?

Gas.

I switch my foot to the other pedal. I am too late.

The tires skid. I am upside down. My car is tumbling. I hear it. I hear me screaming in my head over and over as the car tumbles. I am going downhill.

Boom. The car hits the ground. "I DIDN'T MEAN TO!" It rolls.

Boom. The car hits the ground. "I DIDN'T MEAN TO!" It rolls again.

It has stopped. The screaming has stopped. The car has stopped.

There is more blood. But it is mine now. There is a shroud covering me. It is The Unknown. I accept it.

Whatever I have done, I didn't mean to. I know that. That I feel. That I know.

I am slipping now. I am leaving.

I am. . . gone.

And now, I see. I see the car. It is white. White like snow. Cradled in the hill. I see my body there.

I perch on what's left of the hood of the car.

I see myself inside of it.

I, now the barn owl, accept what is not to be known, and fly away into the dark.