Trust me

I still think it was a good idea for me to move up north, far away from old friends and acquaintances who needed to understand my need for a change. There was nothing gravely wrong with them, in all honesty, but we all have been embedded in the same environment for 22 years, and some of them were starting to show signs of their age. How can I say that? Just by looking at their decision-making process, personal goals definitions, and of course, their diverse posts online. They were no longer the same, and it was also happening to me, understandably, but I took a step forward and said "goodbye" without remorse. There is always room for improvement, according to a multitude of self-help books and studies but if you don't make decisive changes about it, well, that room will stay empty and waiting for you, for the longest of times.

Surprisingly, the last day was quite easy for me. Didn't say much in advance because I didn't want the attention that some may give to the news, although I suspected there wouldn't be too much of it at the end. Yeah, a very few were truly in awe by my choice, and most disregarded it with a vehement belief that I was taking the wrong path. But it was my path to follow and not theirs, so they could suck it up and put it in a bag if they wanted to. This was something I had been thinking about for a while now, and according to my recount, every consideration was taken, every option reviewed in detail and logged as checked, and almost all of the wrong reasons discarded for good. And I emphasize the "almost" in this sentence because if there was something I did think would cause me the kind-of-expected pain that always comes with a change like this was the very real possibility of not seeing some of them ever again in my life. And that hurts like Hell.

You know how they say that some people come into your life and they stay with you forever, even if you don't hear them saying "Good morning!" anymore when they walk in at the office, or if you don't receive a text or a call from them for the goofiest of reasons over the weekend? There were a couple of them like that in my reduced circle, and I was this close to renouncing my plan after considering the loss I would have. But looking closely I promptly realized that this was more like a one-way road of communication, with efforts going mostly in a single direction. Of course, there was never a clear sign of rejection or discomfort on their part and we shared special moments quite often. But I could tell that the change was going to affect them only for a little while, and then they would move on with their lives. Not an easy thing to do, but I understood and accepted that fact without thinking twice about it. And I was just hoping that I would be right about it. I could tell and feel, but as with any interaction, you can never be so certain about that doubtful aspect of us, human beings.

But it was a done deal now.

Fresh air and some new faces already showing up and greeting me with open arms. Plenty of roads to explore and historical sites to visit. A multitude of charming little towns at a driving distance up and down the hills that formed this section of the Interstate System showed me the potential this area had. I even found a drive-in movie theater about 20 minutes from my place! I would have to check that out soon, for sure. Always been a fan of spending an afternoon with a good movie, freshly made popcorn, and a cold drink. And if I can stay in my car while enjoying all of this, even better.

There were plenty of good old diners and Waffle Houses around town so grocery shopping became quite simple, quite soon after the move. No need to store food supplies at home if somebody else can cook for you, I'd say. "Only the bare necessities" was my new motto. And I took that advice to heart. But as the company moved more and more into working remotely, this had to change. The good news was that the house had the biggest pantry I had ever seen. The bad news was that it would stay at least half-empty most of the time since I was living all by myself. Sure thing, once the grandkids started visiting and spending the summer over, that would be a different scenario. But there will be time for that later.

I chose to buy a place in the outskirts of town for two main reasons: to have plenty of space in between me and the closest neighbor, and to be able to pick a house with a barn. I always wanted to have one since I was a kid. And to my luck, the house I found came with two of them: a small one recently built - probably at the same time that the previous owner flipped the house - and a big old one by the corner of my new 3-acre lot. It was a deteriorated two-story wooden building with two enormous sliding doors at the front, plus a small one on the right side for easy access during winter. There was an open porch on the left side, probably to take care of horses and such, and plenty of space inside to accommodate tools, haystacks, farm machinery, and whatever else you wanted to store in there. I spent a lot of time exploring it during my first summer living there, but only during the day. Although it had a couple of lights still working inside that barely illuminate it when the sun went down, the space in general - and especially in the loft on the second level - was somber. And the sounds of wild animals living on it made it even more unpleasant to visit at night.

The forest in the back of my piece of land was a completely different story. It was filled with tall trees and plenty of fauna, but it had a lot of open areas where you could see a bunch of deer, bobcats, raccoons, owls, and some others. I loved going for a short walk every afternoon and tried to befriend some of those creatures. As I started seeing more and more of them, I looked and found the local public library where I was pleased to check out plenty of books about their habits. I don't like hunting at all so I wasn't interested in getting a trophy - although I purchased a hunting rifle almost at the same time that I bought the house for protection purposes - and instead, I went to the local farm store to buy some deer food and a feeder. The idea of filling the dripping barrel and then waiting for them to show up made me buy a good camera and tripod too. Maybe I would be able to have them know somehow that I had no plans to hurt them. I put their food out there and then walked back to my porch to wait and see if I could get a good picture or two. Nothing compares to the feeling of "shooting" them with a different type of tool.

Winter season was a challenge for a city boy like me, but a co-worker showed me the ropes and even lent me some equipment to clear my driveway the first time that the snow was not as funny as they made it appear on TV. It was a hard job, not gonna lie, and my hands were silent witnesses of my perils, but the reward of being able to take your truck out of the garage to go to the local bar afterward made it worth it. By the second time that the snow was covering everything, I already had my very own snowplow - one of those that attach to your riding lawn mower- a gas-powered blower, and some hand tools for the main entrance and corridor between the house and the new barn.

A few years had passed almost without me noticing, as I was happily spending the time learning new things almost every day. Already acclimated to the local traditions and "way of life" of this part of the country; I was continuously meeting new people and visiting my preferred watering hole every Friday afternoon; sometimes to watch a match or two at the cornhole tournament they had running or simply to chat with co-workers and new acquaintances. Driving at least once a month to Nashville to enjoy a weekend recharging my batteries, attending free concerts, and watching local bands playing for tips at every bar on Broadway Avenue. I was still feeling nostalgic for the friends I had left behind, even though I kept in contact with some of them, mostly due to their continuous messages and calls when something was failing at work. It was always funny to hear them apologizing for interrupting me, thinking that I was "always busy as a bee". And my response was to say something to the likes of "my job is not to pass the time doing general stuff but rather to do something in the proper way when you did it incorrectly and I had to correct it for you". We laughed at that piece of wisdom every time because they knew very well that I was right.

One major drawback was the permanent feeling of being wrong knowing that I had left my grownup kids back home, but they all had their own lives going on for them and I didn't need to be around all the time. We were in constant contact anyway, sharing funny videos and stories about work and relationships, food recipes, and travel tips. They all had told me that they were going to be fine and that I had to believe in them if I ever wanted to truly enjoy moving away. And I believe in them as I always did. They all had shown me how capable they were to be functional adults without me constantly looking over their shoulders, trying to be their all-knowing guide. Maybe a piece of advice here and there for their benefit - I had already passed through the same situations before - but staying out of their lane and letting them drive. And they were forming a great future for each by themselves.

I still laugh every time I remember my daughter saying "I can't wait for you to leave!" in the most joyful voice ever when I started telling them about my plans. Because she knew that once I was living somewhere else, there would be a new place for adventures to have for her and her family. There would be a new place to pass Christmas "with real snow" as she said it. And there was the constant excitement of waiting for me to arrive for what would be a long, long day of driving after one of my typical "on my way!" texts after leaving my house to visit their home.

Still think that the choice was correct, and that following my instincts paid off greatly for me, my kids, and my mental sanity while trying to reinvent myself.

And then, I had to kill a man.

The police officers that answered my call to the local 911 service kept saying that I was in the clear. That I did what needed to be done. They talked to me for at least three hours or maybe more, but never as a suspect and more like a victim. They were just taking detailed notes about what had just happened while the forensic department continued collecting evidence, samples, and tons of photographs. One of those guys wearing a yellow-colored biohazard suit approached them and showed us all a transparent bag that had what looked like food scraps, empty water bottles, and crumpled cookie packages. He said something about timing and quantities but I couldn't understand exactly what he was talking about. He looked at me with a smile that made me feel weird, like if he was proud of what I had done. Then turned around and walked in the direction of their truck.

-"It looks like he has been living in your barn for at least the last four or five days, based on what he had left of his food and garbage" - one of the officials finally said - "And he was probably watching you going on with your daily activities so he could learn your routine, maybe thinking on ransacking your place for more food as he was apparently running low, or even valuables".

That statement gave me chills in my spine as I had never felt before. One of my biggest fears living on the edge of town and basically at the beginning of the forest was precisely what I would do if I needed help. Knowing that somebody I didn't know was watching me added a few more notches to my panic level. My mind wandered for a while thinking about adding new lights to the barn and maybe installing solar panels on its roof, of course after rebuilding its base and rafters so they would be able to support the extra weight. I was immersed in these crazy thoughts and plans for that old building when a couple of guys from the medical examiner's office rolled out a stretcher with the body on it, covered in a white sheet from head to toe and secured with several tie-down straps. I was unable to see his face but noticed how the light piece of cloth revealed a considerably tall and big-fitted figure. As they were struggling to put him on the back of the ambulance, I started remembering everything I said to the police, from the moment they arrived, up to when the guy with the plastic bag interrupted us. It was all coming back again, but this time with a vengeance.

I did tell them that it all started when I heard a noise coming from the barn, as I was walking behind it returning from one of my hikes. Somehow I spent more time than planned today visiting my good old "deer friends" as I was making sure they had enough food for the morning and was getting home already late for my dinner. The sun was still illuminating the area with that orange tone that seemed like it was hand-painted by somebody with great talent, but inside the barn was already dark.

I did mention that I took a peek through the side door without using the lights and called the stereotypical "hello? Is anybody here?" several times while feeling like I was part of a teenagers' horror movie. As I heard nothing and saw nothing I went to my house but didn't turn the radio or the TV on, thinking that I would be able to hear better if the same sound appeared again.

I did not say that I wanted to see if the sound was caused by the barn owl I found flying in the forest near the creek that crossed the back from side to side almost a year ago because I didn't want to look like a weirdo. I loved that creature the moment I saw her for the first time and even had built a couple of nest boxes on the trees that were growing on the edge of the open area - following the instructions provided with the kits I bought from The Barn Owl Trust website - trying to make her feel like they were her home. I saw her using them a few times, but she always preferred the window sill that pointed to the west in that old building for an unknown reason. Maybe she was fond of the mice that were always trying to make a nest in between the sacks of deer food. Or perhaps she wanted a bigger home for her young owlets.

I did tell them that I heard more noises coming from the barn when I was sitting down to eat and that I went to my gun safe and took out my rifle just in case it was a bear going through the stuff I had stored there. They asked if I was a hunter and I answered them saying that I loved watching them running wild rather than hanging from my wall and that I preferred to shoot them with my camera. They looked at me probably like - no, definitely like - I was not in the right place for that.

-"It was a good shot. You were lucky to pin him like that. There were a lot of markings on the floor indicating that he was charging towards you, and we found a hunting knife next to him. We still need to check for prints but his hand and the knife's handle are both covered with the same type of dirt. I'm sure the guys from the lab will confirm that it was his" - And still, somehow I had a feeling that they would be coming back with some bad news - "Are you sure you're not a deerstalker, pal?" - He said with a smile while patting me on the shoulder as he started walking to his patrol car.

The officer that stayed with me told me that the dead man was a known felon that escaped from jail a couple of towns to the east of us when they were trying to bring him to the Court for a hearing. He had knocked out the two police officers in charge of his transfer when they were distracted and took their car, which was found a few miles out of our town, without gas. According to the investigation, the policemen forgot to fill up the tank before picking him up, and that forced him to continue his escape on foot. They were searching the surrounding areas for more than a week by now, but they were running out of luck because of the size of the forest and the number of places where he could have been hiding.

-"This guy was not a camper or a hiker, but he was in good condition for his size and was able to walk the wilderness without being seen by anybody. Your barn was a great place to stay hidden, covered from the elements, and with plenty of space to rest. We thought about that possibility from the beginning but you can imagine how many potential sites one can find around here" - He was right about that. There were plenty of other pieces of land with old constructions, storage units, and even abandoned houses nearby. Why he had chosen mine was a question that would live in my mind forever.

-"You were very lucky my friend. I checked the scene myself and I saw with my own eyes how close he got to you, based on his footprints and yours. You have a very good reflex. No wonder my partner has his doubts about you". He was dead serious when he said that last part and kept his eyes on mine, probably looking for a reaction he could use against me - "But as we said already" - he continued as I held my breath and kept staring back - "everything points in your favor. So, just relax and stay available in case we need to come back and double-check some things with you. Understood?" - I answered only by moving my head in an affirmative mode. I couldn't say a word for a moment, realizing how close my unexpected tenant was to ending our encounter differently.

I did tell him that I was grateful for my luck and repeated the same story about how as I was walking out from my house to go check those noises I heard again, I noticed a silhouette crunching by the wall in between the open porch and the main building, where there was an opening without a door. I stopped for a minute or two trying to figure out what kind of animal it was, as I hadn't thought about the possible presence of another human being. I kept mentioning that I entered the building using the same door I used before instead of opening at least one of the sliding doors because they were heavy and I haven't used them in a while. I did mention how my body was shaking thinking about the plausible presence of a bear and how I forgot to turn the lights on. Even though I had to take a fair amount of training lessons before I allowed myself to purchase the rifle and had been to the firing range a couple of times after I got it, you would be better off not trusting me with a firearm. I knew what needed to be done and how, but I wasn't so sure if I would be able to do it if needed. I kept this little detail out.

I also kept out the part where, as I walked in and tried to see around without success, the only thing I saw was the owl, perched again on her preferred spot at the window, about 9 feet high and with her back to the glass. There was still a tiny amount of light coming thru, but it was enough for me to recognize her, thanks to the white soft feathers with black dots she has on her chest. She looked at me and then turned her head to the left, paying special attention to a particular point in between two stacks of hay with an opening in between them, placed by the base of the ladder you would use to go to the loft. It was the perfect place to hide if you were an animal looking for food and fearing for your life. And it was then that I remember that the light switch was next to the door, about 30 feet away from me.

The owl made a screeching noise all of the sudden, and I almost lost my grip on the gun. She was mad. Her narrow eyes were a clear sign that she was pissed off at something. She extended her wings and kept turning her head to the same spot a few times, looking at me in between movements. Was she trying to tell me or show me something in particular? The adrenaline rush that was running rampant through my entire body was not helping me, as I needed to stay calm if I was planning to use the rifle. But I wasn't sure where to point it - "Don't worry, I have a plan" - My son's words were resonating in my mind as I was trying to figure out what to do. He was always in a defensive mode when I acted "annoyingly persistent" with him while he was in college, and those words were his way to stop me from back-seat driving him. It worked every single time. And it worked even now.

Those darn books from the public library were full of facts and specific details about owls, and the website where I bought the nest boxes contained a section with photos and diagrams explaining how those animals were considered expert hunters because of their ability to see in very little light conditions and how they used the small stiff feathers around their facial disc to tunnel sounds to their ears. It was like a little antenna, and they pointed it to where they believed their prey was moving around.

I walked and placed myself under the window where she was still standing, and tried to look in the same direction where she was pointing her face. She made some more screeching noises and flapped her wings multiple times and then stayed still looking left. I raised the rifle to my waist - suddenly remembering one piece of advice from one of those hunting books I read before: "you will have a better chance to hit your target if you point to the biggest area, around the chest or belly, and not to the head. You are hunting a wild creature, not fighting zombies" - and pointed it in the same direction she was looking at, which was not the space in between the haystacks as I believed before, but to the left of them. I couldn't see anything but I was trusting her instincts by now. She moved her head to face me one more time - looking down to where I was - and I looked right back at her, stupidly hoping for a response I could understand.

-"You sure?" - the words sounded inside my brain as I kept pointing the gun and grabbed it firmly with my finger on the trigger, ready to act.

I don't want to say what I think I heard from her when she made the last sound before there was a movement of something coming fast at me from the haystacks because that will make me look like a fool. But having the hunting rifle already pointed in the right direction when I loudly said "hello?" proved to be the advantage I needed at the moment.

And of course, again, I left those little details out of my report to the police, just in case.