Where do I put them?

The world rolled on hazily through the bus windows nauseating me till I was set alert by a barn owl flaunting its wings among the pine trees. The bus groans then whine to a stop at a traffic light, with a gluttonous stare I follow the trajectory of the owl, I clutch the edge of my seat my forehead pressed to the cold window, the raucous sounds of my breaths foaming the surface.

I kept my sight on the creature my grandmother had deemed the loneliness, her fingers running over my scalp, composing my afro hair. I glub, the saliva runs down my throat like gravel as I watch the blue wintry sky swallow the barn owl.

My big brother Jay met me at the bus station. Standing under an electric bulb lights buzzing, he hugs me, smelling of fumes and wood and we begin a drive to the cabin meant to welcome me, the cabin meant to restore me, the mute girl.

I stepped into the cabin with a tension in my body, I furrow my brows at the pinewood, the single bed, and the rocker. "Do you like it?" my brother says. The cabin smelled like my grandmother, sharp, sweet with a touch of antique warmth.

I shrug, I let my knapsack drop in a sound of defiance, I don't bother to break a smile and behind me, my brother sighs and closes the door.

During the evening Jay dragged me to the landlord’s house, the owner of the cabin. He chattered on endlessly and I thought of my grandmother's as I stagger on the evening earth and rugged rocks.

The landlord, Emily was a stout lady with greying air and a sagging face, curious blue eyes that held knowledge of the state of my voice started out at me. She spoke and I stretch my lips, smiling, grateful she did not ask questions, for not expecting any replies.

We sat on the rickety chair, our elbows on the kitchen table laden with ceramic cups and plates. The conversation halted as the door creaks open and a boy with hair brown like the earth warmed-over steps in.

"This is Dan, my son. Dan this is Lila, she's here on vacation from her boarding school" Emily said. Dan extends his hand to me. "Hi Lila, how are you."

My lips hurt, the silence has a pressure of its own and the heat of shame crawls down my neck.

"She refuses to speak." my brother says, lifting a heavy cup to his mouth.

It's not a refusal I felt urged to say. Grief has my throat that's all.

"Your grandmother was a lovely woman Lila, I miss her. We grew up in this town and she was a dear friend of mine, she'd stay over here for days at times and sleep right there in that cabin."

I nod. My grandmother would often speak of her girlhood years, the leaping down the forest, the babbling brook and the random adventures she and her friends would encounter.

Emily reaches for my hand over the table, her fingertip pressing against my palm. "It's not your fault Lila. It truly isn't. It was an accident. It was dark and the driver was drunk" her voice is exhausted and frail. "You poor girl, you've lost your parents as a baby and now this. You and your brother are always welcome here I hope you know that."

Dust motes danced in the ray of sun as I peeled my eyes open. Bleary, I yawn, my feet cold on the wood. I reach for a note on my dresser which held my brother's rough handwriting.

"I left for town, the forest here can be tricky to navigate so don't go anywhere."

Sitting down on a fallen trunk outside I ran a heavy sight at the forest surrounding me, the maple leaves trickling with sunlight, trembling in the wind, and the mountain that rose to the sky like walls of protection.

A barn owl with grey feathers streaked with gold perches itself on the sagging branch of a birch tree and hoots. I lift my chin. We held each other's gaze, the owl's eyes seemed to soak up light and throw it back.

I split my lips open and spoke. It was a ferocious cry of grief.

"GRANDMOTHER!"

The owl flaunts its wings and soars to a sky smeared with crimson clouds and I'm dashing through the trees, the branches scratching me, tangling themselves in my wooly hair.

I halted to a stop, my knee aching and my breaths coming out all wrong and rugged. My lips with a life of their own moved, reciting my grandmother's name, repeating I'm sorry.

I fall to the earth, the pebbles painful against my skin and I press my mouth to the ground, tasting particles of dirt.

I'm talking. I thought. I can talk again.

I turn my body over the earth and lay facing the fragments of sky visible between the tree leaves.

I smile with the elation of being given my voice back and I thought of the owl. It was the same owl I saw on the bus on my way here. There were no doubts in my mind about it.

I straightened my back and gaze around, the tree circling me had yellow and coffee-coloured leaves. I remember my grandmother sitting on the couch by the bay window, holding me to her chest as we watch the autumn season alter the earth, the light changing our backyard.

I stood up and went on, passing by the spread of lake and hills, pushing aside branches in search, my eyes wandering.

Far away, I heard a screech, the hoot of the owl collapses into a natural rhythm and I propel my legs forward faster, following the sound of it.

A soft darkness began to dribble over the world and I kneel by a rotten trunk coated with moss and gathered odd branches and leaves. I reach into my pocket, thankful for the lighter I carried.

The fire burst alive as the owl continued its tune. I smile, my back resting against the trunk.

The owl sounds advanced, moving in closer and closer and it lands on a boulder a few feet away from me. I stared at it, studying the determined tenderness in its face.

I lift my finger, "Grandmother.."

The black air shook with the owl’s wild cry and I smile. I shook my head and chuckled, feeling the pulse of my laughter in the air.

My lips pale, dreading the words about to come. "I'm sorry grandmother, I'm so sorry." my voice thick with grief carried on with ceaseless motion. "I shouldn't have argued with you, I shouldn't have gone into the street and made you run after me. I'm so sorry."

Tears run down my cheek, my tongue is hurting, there's a numbness in my mouth. Not speaking, disengaging from life was a sort of amend for my crime but I need to speak, I can't keep on being quiet. Locking all that sorrow inside.

I feel the weight of my bones, how do you handle all that grief? What do I do with so much love? Where do I put them?

The owl hops toward me and cocks its head. I smile through the blur of my vision and whisper. "Thank you for the answer Grandmother." and I pet its head, its tender feather running through my fingers.

With both hands, I sweep the animal into my palms noting its fragility. The glow of the fire stressed the beauty of the owl, and I was given a sense of everything around me, the life surrounding me. There's no loneliness here.

The owl hoots, I felt its heart throb through the music he gave me.

I took a swig of air and looked at the empty swells of hills, I listened to the sound of my breath in the vast forest. I looked at the owl in my hand with a quiet finality, the light flickering gently on us.

I felt such an unbearable tenderness for myself, for that owl, my grandmother.