Stella

I drove up the long drive to the old house. Light and shadows took turns on the windshield as the afternoon sun peeked through the leaves of the tall trees lining the drive. The speedometer needle was low, but a cloud of dust kicked up as gravel crunched under the tires. The weathered old house came into view. The parking spots closest to the house were empty, but I couldn’t bring myself to park there. Those spots belong to Grandmom and Pop. I pulled in a few feet away and turned off the car. I sat there for an extra moment allowing my eyes to take in the house and the yard, flashes of memories causing tears to well up in my eyes. I took a deep breath and got out of the car. Butterflies and bees were playing in the wildflowers and weeds that had grown in the yard. I pushed open the screen door with rusty hinges and watched my Chucks make light footprints in the dingy green turf rug of the little porch. I pushed open the heavy brown door and heard the smacking sound as the door separated from being stuck to the weather-stripping. I stepped onto the dirty linoleum and paused to let my eyes adjust from the bright sunlight to the dark closed-up house. It was silent in the house but echoes of memories filled my ears. My heart burned hot in my chest. Grandmom had passed away, but I could feel her here all around me. I made my way through the first floor toward the staircase. It was smaller than I remembered. In my youth it had seemed as sprawling as the staircase where Cinderella lost her glass slipper. I put my hand on the banister and climbed to the second floor with the wood creaking under each slow step.

I spent so much time passing through the rooms letting memories wash over me, that I was shocked to notice the sun set through the window of Alice’s room. Alice had been Grandmom’s pet tarantula; and yes, Alice had her own room. Alice was long gone now, but I chuckled at the memory. I was drawn to the window to soak in the golden light of the sunset. My eyes drifted down to the yard. Annie had arrived and was standing at the huge old oak tree where we had all left our marks over the years. Annie was running her fingertips along the carvings. I was about to turn away from the window to head downstairs when a flash of white caught my attention. I peered intently at the tree, searching the leaves until I found it. The telltale white heart face of a barn owl, sitting on a branch high above my aunt. I stood for a minute admiring it, and then headed out to greet Annie.

Annie smiled when she saw me, but there was tension in the air. There had been a falling out between the siblings before Grandmom died. A huge canyon of distance and icy silence had cracked open between my Grandmom’s kids. My brother and I were neutral like Switzerland, but everyone was a little wary in case of secretly held alliances and hard hurt feelings. My brother and I had organized tonight’s memorial moment for the siblings, hoping it would bring everyone a little closer again.

Annie and I caught each other up on our lives and reflected on Grandmom with alternating smiles and teary eyes. Headlights appeared in the dusk as two more cars travelled up the driveway. My dad, uncle, and brother had arrived. The siblings greeted each other with tense politeness. They stood awkwardly shifting from foot to foot trying to make small talk while Mike and I went to work. As a full moon began to climb in the sky, we set up candles and a picture of Grandmom on a wide flat stump in the yard. We heard the siblings’ voices raising in tension and volume across the yard. Mike looked up from the candle he was lighting and gave me a look out of the tops of his eyes. I gave him a look back with a grimace. We silently agreed with each other that maybe this hadn’t been our greatest idea. But then, our silent shared thoughts and the squabble between the siblings was interrupted by a series of screeches. I looked up and realized it was the barn owl in the oak tree. Mike and I laughed because it was as if the barn owl was admonishing the siblings to stop arguing, and it seemed to work for a minute. But then the owl fell silent again and the siblings resumed their arguments once the moment had passed. Mike shook his head. I shrugged my shoulders. We turned our back to the squabbling siblings for a moment while we prepared a few glasses of wine for a toast.

Suddenly there was a huge commotion behind us. Mike and I looked at each other as our brains processed the sounds of owl screeches and siblings yelling. We whirled around to find the adult siblings running around the yard in the moonlight, pursued by the barn owl who was screeching and chasing and nipping at each of them. After a while, Annie plopped down with her butt firmly planted on the ground and her arms flung over her head while the owl hovered around her diving in to tug at wisps of her wild curly hair. Then Dad went careening across the yard toward his sister, waving his arms to try to warn the wild animal off. He collapsed onto the ground next to his sister as the owl flew away from her head. The owl made one last fly by, swooping over Uncle Steve who was army crawling through the grass toward his brother and sister. The owl screeched a few more times and then flew off into the night. The siblings sat for a moment in stunned silence, and then erupted into laughter. They rolled around in the grass and dirt howling with laughter. Then they got up and brushed themselves off and hugged each other.

Mike and I finished pouring the wine and handed everyone a glass. We all agreed Grandmom sent that beautiful bird to knock some sense into her kids and get them laughing together again. We named the barn owl “Stella” in Grandmom’s honor and raised a toast. Big wounds take time to heal, but we had hope that this was a good start.