Day Dreaming
A barn owl glides over a pond I can see from my bedroom window. As a child I would tell my mother, there is lady that lives in that pond. Her hair is black from the murky water with streaks of green algae, framing her face that has a winter pale glow. I continued to tell my mother how concerned I was for this lady and how I felt she needed me to visit her lonely soul. It would scare my mother. Although she knew that she wasn’t real, she had forbidden me from going near the pond, afraid I would jump in to see the lady and drown. I don’t have memories of my own of her, just what I built from my mother’s story. Which I only think of now since my mothers passing last week. I think of the barn owl flying freely. I think of the lady in the pond stuck here. Like I feel now, here in this house with my father and sister.