At Night I Walk Alone

At night I walk alone. Under a dark, bright sky I can breathe, decompress. The long, uneven road home reminds me that not all things are easy. Even that which we know and see each day.

The path is familiar and worn, walked many times by myself and others. Through tree branches I glimpse star and moon light. Shrouded in this canopy blanket I feel safe, comfortable. Shadows dance around as my mind wanders.

Conversations never had are best rehearsed in the dark. I make my arguments known to figments of imagination, with repressed hope that one day they will make it to the ears of those that matter. Key words being "one day".

The barn owl lets out its sighing screech, momentarily drowning out the imaginary dialogue. I bury my hands deeper into my pockets and keep walking.

It’s hard you know, being able to articulate my thoughts when the time comes. I get so thrown off when you attack me, your words disapparating any rational sentences. How am I supposed to react? Brashly? And risk making deep cuts as you do? Apologetically as always? Then you win again, and we all know you need to win. I’m not like that - not really, anyways.

The barn owl flys above me as I step into a clearing. I’ll be home soon.

What is it about this need to win? To prove you are smarter, better, right. To disregard the thoughts and emotions of others, as though they are foolish, misinformed, wrong. It must be so self-assuring, to be the one with the only opinion that matters. Such a high throne you must sit upon, as you glance down at us plebians.

You aren’t by the way - right I mean. I know you think you are. That I am just “not old enough”, so clouded by my unreleting naive judgment. How do I even function this way? I must be wrong. Maybe in “twenty-five years” I too will understand, but I doubt it. I am not you. At times, when I feel weakest, I think I could be, and that worries me.

Two deep black eyes watch me from a snow white face. The milky way reflects off of them, grounding me a little. I march on, hoping to get out all my silent words before the journey is over.

I am sorry you know. Sorry that I am so like the person you despise, the one who ruined your marriage. That I remind you of them in my looks and mannerisms. It must be hard. You love me yet despise them. I can see how it would be easy to attack me. To say what you want to say to them when you look at me. To also get lost in your thoughts, perhaps not realizing the silent argument from a long time ago is being projected outloud onto me.

I can see the porch light now, it is time to reel my thoughts back to reality. To reserve myself. I start building up invisible walls again. Brick by brick, until my fleeting bravery is shut in, awaiting for tomorrow night's walk home.

The barn owl sits on a fence post to my left, no more than a yard away. A constant companion to my solitary walks home. We don't ever speak, but the quizzical presence is enough. I turn towards my silent spectator.

“Do you have these problems?” My first spoken words of the trek home. I shake my head, of course not. And great, now I'm talking to owls. Well, I guess they’re easier than fathers.