The Chair and the Barn Owl

It had seemed as if I hadn’t felt the warm embrace of sleep for quite some time. For so long I had traveled...and for so long I had craved rest. My body craved rest...the kind that makes you feel as if your body is afloat in a lake and the quiet splash of the water hits the shores bringing comfort to your soul. No rest for me...no rest for so long. Had I fooled myself into believing that there was such a thing? Had I contoured up an idea of what rest was to be? I had heard people talk of such things as a “nice rest” or “ a little rest and relaxation”. Was such a concept fiction? All I knew was that I craved it...my body and mind yearned for it...I was dying to find it.

Once, I sat in a solid chair in a quiet office and told someone about my search for rest. She told me of all the great things that it would do for me once I had found it. She showed me articles and diagrams...charts and graphs...statistics and quotes about the impact of good rest on the body and mind. Take these, do this, think that, and learn to let go. Maybe that was it! Maybe I couldn’t find rest because I had been tied to the pier. I couldn’t feel the soft lake water under my body because I had yet to drift away from the shore that I was fastened to all so tightly. “Come back in two weeks”, she said. “I think we are really making some progress”, she smiled as she closed the door behind me and the receptionist handed me my next appointment card.

Hmm, 4:15 a.m. and I am sitting in my favorite chair. The chair that hugs me and keeps me company as the hours pass on and the thoughts swoosh in and out of my mind like the wind outside my window. Have I really been sitting here this long? Again? Forty-five years old and feeling so aged by life...by people...by all the illnesses and disease that have consumed me. Rest? Oh rest, where are you my old friend? You went away when I was just a child and have never returned. Replaced by insecurities and inadequacies...both of which need no rest to keep going on and on with no end in sight.

Morning peaks through an opening in the room-darkening curtains like a prod telling me that it is time to start the day. I go to my closet and take out my chosen costume for the day. I stand in front of the mirror and put on my mask with it’s painted and polite smile. I collect my things and drive to work and begin today’s masquerade.

The night seems to come more quickly than before and I tell myself that tomorrow is a new day knowing that, in reality, it is simply the same as every day before it. I muster up the desire to eat my processed food. I complete my evening ritual of telephone calls and texts that let everyone know that I am “okay”. I take my shower that doesn’t wash me clean and slip on my old pajamas that I wish I could wear all the time. My big chair welcomes me as I crawl up into its lap with a throw, recline back, and the recycled night before rolls out in front of me.

It is 3:25 a.m. My eyes are heavy, but not as heavy as my loneliness. There is a slight breeze outside of my window, a dog barks in the distance, and a hazy light from the moon falls from the sky. Tonight, I leave my room-darkening curtains open hoping that the nightly breeze will carry my thoughts away with it. However, all hope subsides when the screeching of a male barn owl sends chills through my very existence and takes me back to the night when my childhood dreams of rest ceased. The screeching that came from down the hall...in the darkness...hiding in the night. So, I cupped my ears, curled up in my blanket, squinted my eyes tightly shut and begged the old screeching barn owl to let me sleep.