Feather of Hope

The yellow moon bathed the waving wheat field in front of me, stars twinkling above me. A goofy scarecrow smiled back at me, a barn owl staring into my copper eyes. White spots dotted his light brown feathers. A soft hoot rang out in the night, his wings fluttering away in a blur.

“What are you doing Emily?” My father inquired curiously, grabbing my shoulder. Sighing, my hand ran through my long wavy red hair. He stepped in front of me, his green eyes glistening excitedly. Wrinkles met at the corner of his eyes, dark bags under his eyes. One single stripe of white stood out in a slicked back wave of red hair. His overall fell off of his shoulder revealing a ragged blue plaid shirt underneath.

“I just saw a beautiful barn owl.” I mused, smoothing my black sweater dress that hugged my hourglass figure. “It almost felt as if it wanted me to follow it.” Chuckling to himself, a grand smile danced across his face. Warmth ran through my body, muscles starting to relax.

“You always were an odd one.” He said, patting the top of my head. “Come on in. Dinner’s ready.” Rolling my eyes, I shuffled after him into the house. Old yellowing floral wallpaper hung on the wall, mismatched cabinets formed an L to the right of me. A wondrous scent of chicken wafted up my nose, making my stomach growl. Around the corner, a small round table sat in the middle of the dark room. The only light coming from small lights on the walls, three large candles sat in the middle of the table.

“Looks great dad!” I chirped, plopping down in my creaking oak chair. Sadness dimmed my eyes, my mother’s seat sat empty. A couple of years back, cancer stole her love and warmth from us. Dad glanced at her seat, but hurriedly looked away. Tears welled up my eyes, my ego holding them back. My fingers wrapped around the barn owl necklace, a soft smile brightening my face. We were about to dig in when a loud thump jerked us out of our depressing trance.

“What was that?” He asked, looking over to the bay window in the kitchen. “I ‘ll go look.” Moments later, a wounded barn owl rested in his palms. Leaping from my seat, I grabbed a cardboard box from the recycling. A dazed golden set of eyes gazed into mine, blinking only twice. Luckily my mother taught me how to heal birds. In fact people still brought them to me when they hit one. Unfortunately, not every single soul made it. Gently, my fingers traced each wing. Relief washed over me, noting that there were no breaks. Just a bit of a rest and she will be okay.

“I will take her upstairs with my dinner.” I said, obsessed with my feathered friend. He nodded, passing me my plate. The log stairs groaned with each step, something my father promised to fix for her. I am pretty sure he left it that way to remember her. My door was the first door up the stairs, birds were painted on it. Tears fell from my eyes remembering the day my mom and I painted it together.

“You kept it clean.” My mother’s voice mused from the box. Fear widened my eyes, not believing what I was hearing. Shaking my head in disbelief, I took a deep sigh. You are not crazy, I told myself. The owl did not just speak to you. The door squealed open, birch tree wallpaper greeted my eyes. Sketches of birds were scattered all over the walls, half of them my mother’s whilst half of them were mine. The box bounced up, the little owl leaping onto my lap.

“I am allowed to come back for one night.” She cooed, kissing my cheek the way she used to. “I just wanted to make sure you guys were alright.” Hot salty tears soaked her feathers, the feathers fluttered in response.

“Did I do something wrong?” I queried, wiping the tears from my eyes. “I thought you were in heaven.” Her head swiveled around, her wide eyes blinking rapidly. My heart beat faster, waiting with baited breath for her answer.

“No, I am mostly concerned about your father.” She explained, rubbing her head against my chest. “He just seems so sad. I feel bad for dying.” A soft smile graced my lips, my hand patting the top of her feathered head.

“I try to take care of him.” I told her warmly, fighting my tears. “I am sad too, you know.” Nodding her head, a soft hoot poured from her orange beak. Gentle looks passed between us, a smile almost appearing on her beak.

“I know.” She declared proudly, nuzzling my hand again. “It is just nice to see you again.” The door burst open, my father looking around wildly. Confusion twisted my face, alarm widening his.

“Who are you talking to my dear?” He questioned curiously, concern flashing in his eyes. “Are you alright?” Shrugging, he was about to leave when her beak parted. My heart skipped a beat, my lungs burning for air.

“Dean, how I have missed you.” The owl admitted sheepishly. His body trembled with fright, nearly fainting on my worn dark floor. A lump formed in my throat, waiting for his response. Heavy silence sat between us, his head tilting to the left. Tears welled up in his eyes, his mind not wanting to believe his ears.

“You are the owl?” He asks, his eyebrows cocked angrily. “I don’t believe you. I have been working so hard, I must be imagining things.” He turned to leave, she flew over to his shoulder. Sharp whispers came from her beak, his body melting into my black chair in the right corner of my room.

“You okay dad!” I shouted, worried for his mind. A strange smile danced across his face, quiet laughter tumbling from his lips. Joy twinkled in his eyes for the first time in a couple of years. Hours passed of us talking like a family, the pink sunset starting to rise.

“I must go.” She hooted, looking sadly into sunrise. “I am confident that it will all get better. Just give it some time.” My lips parted in protest, my heart begging for her not to leave. Dad shook his head, and opened the window. Tears flooded from my eyes, her form flying into the rising sun. Tears welled up in his eyes, his strong arms embracing me tightly. Soft sobs shook our bodies, feeling she died all over again. He pulled away, and patted my head.

“You know what she whispered to me.” He wept, holding me tighter. “She said that she was proud of your work, and that she wanted us to move on. How about we make this an official bird rescue? We can name it Emily’s Barn.” Nodding, I wept into his shoulder. Tears soaking his shirt, hope starting to rise in my heart.