Glowing Eyes

I moved away from the city after a devastating breakup with my boyfriend of three years. To the country, I went to get away from all the noise or to escape reality some would call it.

Joe decided he was all the sudden not inlove with me anymore. And it was, sickness to my bones.

A literal hell. Heart-break is a different kind of pain. I’d rather have a broken arm then to deal with broken love. The thing about pain is, you can always heal over time but when it comes to losing someone you love, it’s almost like you don’t want to. To live life without them, feels lifeless, everything about it. Everything reminds you of them, or things you want to do, you’d do it with them. So, it steals the joy of doing it all.

Doing anything at all has been taken from me.

They say start over, but how, how when love is so specific towards one kind.

I set up at my departed grandparents little deserted cabin in the Smokies, in Tennessee.

It was just right.

I’m a writer, so inspiration has been put on pause. When you’re dead inside, everything else you around you is dead.

After dinner, the loneliness set in. And this has been my routine for a full week now.

Wake up, visit the local cafe, come back, try to write, try to write some more and then dinner, then bed.

When will the healing begin? I thought.

And in this thought it made the subject title for a good piece.

After one week I had a title, but after two weeks a title was all that I had. Still nothing.

I ventured out to the back porch for some fresh air and a different view, maybe something would spark an interest. And strikingly, there was nothing, but my grandfathers old barn that he built back when this property was a thriving little land.

Oh the loneliness, it was wretched. Thinking about what Joe would be doing this very instant. Would he even care that I was gone? Would he even think about it at all?

The saddest part, and for anyone for the matter, is all the minutes and nights I’ve spent crying over him, he doesn’t even know it. It feels so defeating. To be this sad and the one you need not even know the depth of your sadness.

While each tear rolls down my face, he’s probably shoving his face with tacos, getting ready for work tomorrow, like no big deal.

Oh to be so apart, so disconnected.

There’s no one in sight, but just me and my cloud. The loneliness is overbearing. I didn’t realize moving away from my friends would be this lonely. But I wouldn’t enjoy their company anyway I would just tell myself. I’d be faking every ticking minute. No use.

I gather my things and proceeded to go inside and then I heard something behind me out on the barn.

Maybe it’s the loneliness just grabbing my attention but I noticed it again.

There!

It’s glowing little eyes from a distance. Someone other than me was here. Even if it was just a bird, it saw me. And I saw it.

I continued back inside and went to bed.

“Would you like your latte hot or cold?” - the barista asked.

“Hot please”

“Are you new to town? It’s usually just the same crowd of customers day in and day out and you are a new face” - he proceeded to ask.

Not up for telling my story, I just nodded slightly and grabbed my latte and exited the door.

Walking down the boardwalk thinking about life and why pain is even a thing. I’ve accomplished so much. I’ve published over half a dozen of books and more articles to even count. Not even my senses felt like they were working. Usually on walks, I would be activated by the smells of minty pine, mixed with the rainy dew of the mountains, which usually out here the air smells like someone sneezed and didn’t cover their mouth, but I feel -nothing. Why was this pain destroying every fiber of my being? I can’t seem to shake it. I feel so crazy, so out of control.

“What a sad way to live”- I said out loud throwing the last piece of my biscuit to the ducks.

I stopped at the local grocery store convincing myself I could work up enough energy to at least cook spaghetti and skip takeout for an evening.

Garlic, mushrooms, and a few spices should do it. Maybe I’ll grab a few things to make a salad as well.

Pulling into the cabin I realized I forgot the sauce for the spaghetti.

Well, there goes my dinner, throwing a fit dropping the bags on the counter.

Crawling into bed I let out a gut wrenching cry.

How could I forget the sauce? So mad at myself, I just laid there. After a few minutes, I thought to myself, you can’t keep doing this- go for a walk!

I strolled the backyard as the moon was high in the sky. And there it was, strikingly the little glowing eyes were back.

What is it? -I thought.

Approaching the barn to get a closer look but couldn’t make it out. No clue what this thing was, but it was here.

Fumbling over some junk in the barn I just began to explore things.

Getting bored I began to cry again. Crying was part of my routine at this point, there wouldn't even need to be a trigger anymore.

Turning around there it was. The glowing eyes, staring right at me.

It was an owl, a little owl, in the barn. Had it followed me in here?

I just stared back for a few minutes, not moving in hopes he wouldn’t leave.

And then, it flew out.

“Goodbye little owl.”

Calling in takeout, I started my hot bath, then after dinner I came up with the first line and to “When will the healing begin”.

The line was “ Loneliness is like the who of an owl, calling out in the dark, visiting frequently at night.”

The next day the barista had the latte ready without me even ordering.

“Thank you?”- I said confused.

He just nodded back.

It was almost the affirmation of our ‘relationship’ he understood, and honored it.

Maybe there will be progress another day but even that was progress with people.

Picking up the sauce this time, I was a little more prepared for supper.

On the way out of the store I get a phone call, and it was from one of my girlfriends back home checking in on my welfare.

“ I’m fine, how are you?” - the famous line.

Talking to her gave a little relief as the loneliness was starting to take it’s toll.

She went on about our book club and how it’s not the same, as I ran the cafe events for open mic night, and other writer activities and then she broke the news to me that Joe was in town.

“Oh really, how is he doing?” - another casual line, trying to hide all the craziness I really felt about it; knowing the answer I’d get would be a knife to my chest.

“Well, um, he uh”

This sounded amusing, I really needed to know now.

“He what?”

“He showed up to open mic night, Friday”- she stammered.

“Oh he did?”- I responded, almost hopeful that he would come to my spot in hopes that he was wondering about me.

A little joy jolted my body. I hadn’t felt anything close to joy in weeks.

“He was with Hannah.”

And just like that, there went the joy.

“Yea, he asked about you and how you were doing”- she continued.

He went to my spot, and brought Hannah and wasn’t bothered. And casually asked how I was.

“Why was he there!” - I blurted.

“Well, he told me it felt inappropriate to go there, but Hannah really loves open mic so she convinced him to go.”

“Hey Marney, I gotta go.” -I hung up the phone and immediately let myself go, crying for hours.

There goes spaghetti night again.

Drowning my sorrows out of the bottle of aged red fine wine, my grandmother stored- I purched my feet up on the faucet nose of the clawfoot bathtub, I soaked in smelly well water and cried for a few more hours.

I thought to myself, now this has got to be the most alone, I could ever be. It doesn’t get any lonelier than this.

Breaking down, I look up and there stood the glowing eyes, peaking in the bathroom window.

I sat up immediately, wiping my face.

The owl was back, and he was right about there! -on the other side of the bathroom window.

Getting myself together, at this point there were no tears to left cry.

I whipped up that spaghetti after all.

Life really just keeps moving.

I decided to have dinner on the back porch, hoping the owl would come back to visit.

I’m not certain, but those glowing eyes just bring a sense of comfort. Like, something is with me, or watching over me. I didn’t feel completely alone when it came around.

Almost done with dinner, and no owl in sight. I let out a few who’s curious to see if it’d work then realized it didn’t and that I’m all the sudden this crazy person relying on an owl for comfort.

Gosh, Olive, get it together!

I lit a few candles in the den and pulled out “Whens the healing begin?”

I wrote down a second line,

“ Loneliness is like the who of an owl, calling out in the dark, visiting frequently at night”

“ Calling out who, for whoever may hear it”

Closing my eyes I drift off.

Loud screeching- “ WHOHOO HOO”

I jumped up from a deep sleep and there it was, on the window of the den.

It responded! To my who? It heard me?

No way!

As a few weeks turned into months this owl visited, as a reminder that I was not alone. As my healing journey began, making friends with the barista and joining a local book club here in this city, I presented my poetry of,

“ Whens the healing begin?” for the first time.

My name is Olive Ramsey and this is,

When’s the healing begin

Loneliness is like The Who of an owl, calling out in the dark, visiting frequently at night.

Calling out who, for whoever may hear it

Unrecognizable at first, just glows from a distance, but returns to remind you it’s still there to listen

Loneliness is the power of The Who, and healing is the reminder of it, wishing that someone would hear it

Though The Who may echo from a distance,

We’re not meant to fear it

It’s beckoning return is the healing

And the pain is the feeling

Whens healing begin? When the pain returns again.