Fly High Dad

I was awoken by a loud screech. A haunting sound. It did little but rattle my nerves, for it's been a reoccurring sound on a nightly basis. The same bone chilling screech of a barn owl for almost a year now. I looked at my clock on my side table. 3:10 am. Dumb animal, why can't you let me sleep? I threw the blankets off me and stumbled to the bathroom. As I turned the light on, I made the mistake of looking in the mirror. I jumped back a little as I almost couldn't recognize myself. I had a ghostly pale complection. My eyes, typically emerald green, were void of color and looked to be sunken into my heart shaped face. As if on cue, the dam broke and the water began to flow. Tears now too big for my own face, raced to escape their reservoir behind my eyes. I turned away from myself and did my deed. Returning to my bed, I flopped on my bed to the sound of yet another screech and a few hisses.

"Like I'm the one who woke you!" I responded with a pillow thrown at my window. I finished crying as I fell back to sleep.

I woke again at 7:00 am. Time to get ready for work. It has been quite the struggle since my dad passed. I feel myself lacking any motivation these days. I was told it gets easier. It sure doesn't feel that way. The days still draw out and seem to never end. The nights offer no comfort, mostly due to that damn owl screeching, but the darkness offers no solace to the grieving mind. I keep remembering the look of fear on his face, the realization that this is the end. What would he have said if those tubes weren't down his throat? Does he miss me like I miss him? Does he know that I was there for him the whole time? Is he no longer in pain? Does he realize I've broken my promise to him? That promise that means nothing now that he's gone?

As ready as I'll ever be, I venture to work. They've been understanding as they know what I've lost. Some even offer to help, seeing as I've lost about twenty pounds to depression. How do they expect to help? How does one help one that's lost a parent? They going to bring him back? No. I'll somehow get out of this funk. I continue through the day and finish my duties. I clocked out and decided to grab a bottle of wine on my way home. I am not a big wine drinker so I just grabbed a bottle of red with a label that has an owl on it. Maybe I'll have a drink with my sleep depriving friend tonight.

Pulling into my driveway, I catch a glimpse of my flying fiend landing near the fire pit in my backyard. I guess we had the same idea. Fire. Or he just found some rodent to torment instead. Either way fire and wine sounded better to me. Being the beginning of March, the nights were still cool and I could use some warmth. I opted to get the fire going before I set into my bottle of red. I had it to a nice size before I turned indoors for a blanket, some pillows, and a book. I uncorked the wine and purposely forget the glass. To the fire I went.

I settled in the wooden lawn chair my dad had built and began to relax in comfort by the fire. The book was picked up but ultimately forgotten as I was joined by my feathered foe. We were watching each other. With every swig of wine, he or she, I couldn't tell, would lift and tilt its head. Almost like it was questioning every drink. Half way through the bottle, I began to speak with this owl.

"Why is it you have to wake me up every night?"

It cocks its head. I am crazy. I'm talking to a bird.

"Must it be every night?"

It ruffles its feathers and cocks its head. Now being half Indian, I know the mythology that pertains to owls. They are harbingers of death. Omens that someone is going to pass. So this one being close to me and harassing me nightly does nothing to comfort me. So I ask it a deeper question.

"Am I dying too?"

It stares at me. It's as if this thing turned to stone. It just stares unblinking at me. A shiver runs down my spine and I take another drink. By now the bottle is almost gone and I am definitely feeling the affects. My head spins a little and I am ready for sleep to take me. The fire still burns as I lie my head back and cock it to the side to stare back at the owl.

"I miss him you know. "

The owl sighs and lowers its head, as if it was bowing.

"Yeah. That's how I feel. Solemn, heartbroken, and lost. Are you lost?"

The owl picks his head up and looks towards the back of my house. What are you looking at? It was then that I noticed a piece of the siding has fallen away from the house and was blocking a small broken window at the top in the attic. The window I had meant to get fixed prior to my dad's passing, but then he died and yeah, I have been slacking in the repairs department. Looks like siding is being added to that list.

"Do you live in my attic?"

The owl screeches, making me jump in my seat a little. Laughing, I untangle the blanket from around me and stand up. The fire started to die down so it was getting a bit cooler for my liking. I grabbed the pillows, blanket, by now empty wine bottle, and my forgotten book, and trudged indoors saying goodnight to my fire companion.

The owl had me wondering. Why was it so comforting? It sat there like it was ready to listen to all my problems. I've never seen a wild animal do that. As it wasn't too late, I made my way towards the attic. It wasn't a finished attic so I rarely used it or ventured up there. Insulation was falling and floorboards were shifty. It also had a very ominous feeling in there. I turned on my flashlight and shone it towards the back of my house to get a view of that broken window. In the beam of light was dust dancing. I crawled to the window to see if I could see out and around that piece of siding that had fallen. Feathers littered the creaking floorboards as if my attic was home to that bird. I looked out the window to see said bird watching the window from its spot by the fire. Eerie fiend. My dad had removed the glass from this window last year, and I was supposed to replace it. I stuck my hand out and grabbed the siding and yanked. As it came loose from the side of the house where it was still attached, the bird screeched again. As if it was cheering. I looked towards the fire but it was gone.

"Pft, figures. Watch me do the work then fly away." I turned away from the window and just sat there. Flashlight in hand just looking around the mess of my attic, I compared it to my life. Falling apart. Shambles. I cried some more. We were going to fix this. "The attic would make a nice area to just get away, escape from the harsh demands of life" my dad had said. Now I have an owl occupying my reminder of my failure to him. It was then that I heard the flapping of wings and a few feathers had fallen on me. The fiend had flown in and set itself in what it looked like a nice nest built onto one of the eves that wasn't surrounded by falling insulation.

"Got yourself back home I see."

The bird rotated it's head and screeched like it was happy. I smiled. Maybe it will stop it's late night screeching to wake me up. I wiped my face and headed back down to my main living space. I went to the kitchen, grabbed a bottle of water and headed to my couch. I layed there and decided I'd fix up my attic this weekend. Not having to work this weekend I fell asleep to the light of my muted TV.

Some time later, I was awoken for yet another night to that damn bird's screeching. Why?! I turned and put the pillow over my head and tried to fall asleep again. What seemed like an hour later I sighed and threw the pillow out of aggravation. I just want to sleep without being woken up. I decided to just get my plans started. Coffee going and more motivation I had mustered in a long time I set out for supplies. In a few hours time, I had everything I needed and set to fix my attic up. In the light of day the attic didn't look as bad off. I nailed down the floorboards where needed. I removed all the old insulation and replaced with new. I nailed in the plywood boards for the walls and swept everything up after. It was starting to look like an attic again. I looked up to the eves and noticed that owl watching me from its nest.

"Do you approve? Does this look better to you?"

The owl puffed itself out, shook himself and sat back in its nest, while a few feathers fell to the swept floor.

"Well thanks for those" sighing I picked up the feathers and headed back down. I had removed that small circular window from the attic to have the glass replaced and figured I'd modify the window while it was out. I had it fit with small rods for it to swivel open and magnets on the sides to catch it as it closed. That way I wouldn't trap the owl in or out. I went and bought some paint and a couple area rugs and some bean bag chairs and some more throw blankets. Oh, and more wine. While driving back home I saw a small bookshelf on the yard of someone having a sale. I snagged that too. Back home I went with my findings and resumed the task of finishing my attic. I painted the walls, set the rugs down , and placed my bookshelf in a nook with the bean bag chairs around that. I then went back down for that small window. When I returned to the attic with the window, the owl was sitting in the hole where the window should be.

"What are you doing? Don't you know I have to put this there?"

Laughing I made my way towards the owl as it flew off to find it's next meal I guessed. I inserted the window. With a little pressure to either side, the window would turn open and slowly close when the magnets aligned. I turned and looked at what I had achieved in two days. The attic looked better than it ever did. I smiled inwardly as I thought of my dad. I went back down to get the two bottles of wine and my collection of books and some blankets. I wanted to try out my new reading spot.

I must have dozed off because the next thing I know I'm being awoken by tapping on glass. I zero in on the small window as I watch it open and the owl flies to its nest. The window closes and I smile. I did it. It worked. My attic is complete with a fixed window for my freeloading fiend. Shaking my head, I hear cracking. What the...? I looks up as I'm hit in the face with what looks like egg shells. Holy shit. This bird is a momma. I hear a new sound of life. A loud horrifying scream. And then another. Oh boy. It looks like I fixed up the attic just in time. This owl was pushing me to get HER house in order. I'm laughing by this point. That was her screeching on a nightly basis for me to get going. I left the attic because the noise was getting to be too much. My attic is now home to not one, but now three owls. I went to the kitchen and decided I had better eat something. I fixed myself a sandwich and some soup and sat there at the table, thinking.

I was beginning to feel myself come back. The weight loss and the depression had to go. I need to feel alive again. Fixing up the attic had brought meaning, purpose back to my life. My dad had wanted this for me. It was my promise to him to not give up. To live. To thrive. Yet in the year after he passed, I was failing. No more. If I can improve that space for an owl, I can do it for myself. It was funny. Helping that owl, I had felt closer to my dad than I had in a long time. It was almost as if he himself were there telling that owl what to do. It gave me some peace because my dad loved owls. He used to go out at night and call to them and they would call back to him. I like to believe that he was here with me and watched me become lost. The only way he could get me to wake up and find myself was through the help of his friend. The owl.