Live Another Day

Moonlight cast its light and total darkness had become asunder. The frigid wind chill shook the foundation of her deep concentration and resoluteness. She stood up from the creaky wooden steps and lit the old porch light with her pocket zippo. Shortly, moths gravitated to its warmth and luminosity. She marveled at their joy and excitement but could not empathize. Although she was empty, she had a very important choice to make. Acacia scrolled down her phone history just to see if she had received a call back - one that she urgently sought to be returned. Her phone history had only shown her many desperate attempts to reach Harlan but there had been no success. In a double-minded conscience, she hoped that she would, although circumstances deemed it unlikely. It had been a few days since she spoke to Harlan, leaving her Atlanta apartment and traveling to her grandfather’s isolated cabin in the North Georgia mountains. She understood that the way that she left was irrationally sudden but she would rather take the pain with her and deal with it alone. All of Harlan’s invitations to open up and release what she had boxed up inside were only met with conversations of deflection and emotional explosions. She realized that her opportunity to finally be vulnerable with only the person that truly loved her was gone. She deserved this silence and loneliness. Still, she wanted someone, anyone to save her from this life-altering decision. Even if it was one word. The only other person that she felt truly cared about her was her grandfather. However, it had been three months since he passed and she thought by retreating to the cabin she would find much needed comfort. Acacia never felt more betrayed by her expectation. Upon her arrival, she found a foreclosure notice dated about a month ago, hanging tattered on the front door. “Damn property taxes. Life.” She muttered to herself, disappointed that she had forgotten. Life at home was already overwhelming and now she was reminded about another issue that she was not sure she could handle. Her fledgling small business had collapsed due to the COVID pandemic. She fell into deep depression after losing her grandfather to the same virus. Now she lost the love of her life and good friends because they were catching the brunt of her anger and sadness. The scenery of the despondent woods mirrored how she felt inside. Empathy met her in that very moment. Frustration forced her to throw her phone across the porch and to let out a thunderous cry of anguish toward the wolf moon. She had been a fortress of will not to allow her emotions show but now the floods from her tear ducts had begun to rush down. She reached into the pocket of her bubble coat and pulled out a Utica hunting knife that her grandfather gave her when she was about 13. She reminisced on what her grandfather told her when he gave it to her. “Every person with a heart of a hunter deserves a good hunting knife to either protect themselves or conquer spoils of their prey, Scout, “ he uttered with a stern and nurturing tone. She twirled the point of the blade on the tip of her left index finger deep in thought. She made her decision. “I’m sorry, Grandad. I don’t have the heart of a hunter. I’m just the prey, “ she grunted. Her trance was suddenly broken when she heard the loud flutter of wings and the crack of a dogwood branch. The impromptu noise startled her and caused her to accidentally indent the tip of the knife blade into her finger. She jumped at the pain of the prick but did not utter a word. She sucked her finger and her mouth was soon filled with the bitter taste of blood. “Whoo,” called a voice belonging to a pair of glowing orange eyes. “Me!” Acacia screamed back almost instinctively. Her curiosity urged her to put the knife down and investigate who or what would be so kind to give her just one word in her darkest hour. An owl with brown and tan feathers sat steadfast among the howling winds. Its stance exuded so much regality, power and prudence that it compelled Acacia to stand upright. When she met eyes with the fowl, she could literally hear the voice of her grandfather and his wise words. Owls were prevalent in the area where the cabin sat ever since she could remember. She thought about the first time seeing one up close when she was about three. She was so intimidated by the large bird she sprinted into her grandfather’s arms and cried. “Aww, precious, that’s called an owl. They aren’t gonna hurt you, Scout. They are only here to remind you of the truth because they can see clear through the dark.” He comforted her as he held her. “For real, gradad?” she whimpered. He grinned and chuckled, “Just like I knew who had some of my peanut brittle when you thought I wasn’t looking. I see through the dark to the truth, too.” They laughed together with a deeper appreciation of each other. Her grandfather was the only parent she knew. If it was not for him she would be an orphan and would not have anyone. Her father died in the Gulf War and her mother died during childbirth. Her grandfather had his own dealings with loss too. The only son that he had died serving this great country and his wife could not take the mental strain of such a loss. She served out the rest of her days in a mental asylum. Acacia realized that growing up they did not dwell in the pain of loss. They were grateful for what they had and that was each other. Tears flowed from her eyes and she slightly smiled. Acacia stopped her moment of reminiscing and hoarsely spoke to the bird. “Grandad, is that you?” The owl turned its head about 90 degrees for a few minutes then rotated it back to its initial position. It then flew another 20 feet to a live oak whose branches were spread out across the roof of a shed. She ran after it as if she was desperate for a message. She stared at the owl with much anticipation although the bird did not “whoo” again or seem to pay much attention to her at all. “Grandad, if it's you, say something! I need your help!” She belted out. It was unclear if the bird was disturbed or annoyed by Acacia’s screaming, however, the owl spread its wings and fluttered away. The branch that the owl was sitting on snapped from the impact of the movement, barely missing the roof of the shed and caved in an old rooster house. “Well, I be damned,” she sighed. She walked over to the rooster house, curious to see what damage had been done. She looked in the small smashed wooden box and saw three shoe boxes scattered inside. She picked one up. The shoe boxes were held together by two rubber bands. One was pulled across vertically, and the other horizontally. She removed the rubber bands and opened the lid to find wads of cash filled to the top. She vigorously began to open the other boxes which she was elated to find had the same content inside. In the last box, she stumbled across a note that was addressed to her from her grandfather. Scout, When the rain clouds seem heavy and you cannot see your way Live another day When it gets kind of hard when your bills outweigh your pay Live another day When all hope is threatened and there are no words to say Live another day Chose to live another day because the morning sun is on its way –Grandad “Thank you, Grandad, thank you, “ she sobbed in gratitude. Another decision was made in that instant. She released all the despair within the walls of her heart and chose to live that very day. Acacia danced in the light of the moon with a renewed feeling that hope was within her grasp. She walked back to the cabin with the shoe boxes in hand, then her cell phone rang.