Closing my eyes and almost picturing the moment exactly: the ghostly pale animal emerging further and further out of the trees.  And although it was far away, it felt as if it were right there, watching my every move.  I could feel the air in my face when its silent, feathered wings marked the night as it swooped down suddenly to get whatever it was watching in the snow.

     I opened my eyes in time to see my little face on the screen, gasping and burying my head into my mom’s side.  My voice was muffled, but I remember crying about how the owl killed the bunny and why would it every do such a thing?  She rubbed my back explaining that it’s just how they survive in the freezing months of winter.  We stood and started solemnly towards the door of our house.  Shortly after, the camera shut off.

     I was left back in the present and a deep ache of nostalgia.  Staring at my blank laptop, my eyebrows creased in confusion at the sudden tears in my eyes.  I wasn’t sure why that video made me emotional, but it did.  My cheeks were warm and probably pink as my hand cut off the path a loose tear led on my face.

     As silence crept up around me, shaky hands lowered the laptop onto the short coffee table  and weak legs struggled to steady back down on the floor.  Chills came over me, making me wish I wasn’t so alone.  I sniffled once, giving myself just that one opportunity to gain composure.  Deep breaths and closed eyes gave me my needed equanimity, letting myself finally rise from the chair, upholstery old and worn, and creaking as I stood. 

     Walking to my room, I found comfort in the noise my feet made as they padded across the wooden floor.  My steps became firmer when my heels hit the ground.  Soon, my short walk to my room became a mission to turn on every light in the house.  The darkness was no longer my sense of serenity for me.  And then, the decision was made that I wasn’t going to sleep just yet. Instead, I walked into the kitchen, stepping on every floorboard that squeaked and started warming up hot chocolate.  Mmmm, the perfect drink to have before bed.  Mom’s voice found its way through my ear. 

     Don’t forget the marshmallows!  Dad added.

     I sat on the bar stool, crossing my legs under me, and placed my forehead gently on the rim of the cup to soak in the radiating warmth.  I shut my eyes, thinking about the stories Mom would tell me about the majestic barn owls.  So many years ago, I was so excited to move to Cali- the place Mom had grown up in.  She would tell Dad and me about how in the winter, the pretty, white birds would fly around like ghosts, looking for food to survive through the cold nights.  I couldn’t wait to finally move there and witness what she had told me about for so many years.

     Although seeing it in reality scared me the first time, every winter we would sit outside at night and wait for the owls to come out.  It would make Mom so happy that I was just as excited as her.  Her smile never faded as she put on my coat and hat each night.  Her laugh never quieted or sounded forced when Dad stood by the door, mimicking me by jumping up and down.

     Now, my heart ached with every step I took to the front door.  Putting on my jacket, I stepped outside, immediately rubbing my hands on the mug to gather warmth.  My feet led the way to my place on the first step.  I just sat and waited.  Every part of my mind knew it was pointless, but still, I waited.

     We used to see so many during the time we sat outside.  My eyes never knew where to look; which bird to become connected to in those few seconds my attention lasted.  But, it was different now.  When they tore a lot of the trees down, they ruined a home for many.  And only twenty years later, there wasn’t even a single one flying through the bare trees.

     The tears fell loosely now, but I didn’t bother trying to stop them.  Those owls were the only thing that left me with a part of my parents.  Watching their ghostly faces fly through the air brought me ease when I could no longer get it from my parents.  I shook my head sadly as I stood up, wondering why their car had to be the one hit by the other, swerving drunkenly around the snowy road.

     My eyes were slowly opening and my brain was becoming alert and aware.  I wasn’t ready, however, for my co-worker’s crazy presence.  Connor was just not capable of being calm.  Firm hands clasped my shoulders, jolting me up, causing me to spill my coffee on my jeans.  I looked down at the damage which wasn’t horrible, but I still couldn’t stand Connor’s obnoxious behavior so early in the morning.  I breathed in deeply and let it out slowly as I turned around the face him.

     “Dammit, Connor, what’s wrong with you?”  I demanded.

     All he did was laugh, his annoying reaction any time I yelled at him.

     “Morning to you, too, Cee.  Chop, chop,” he said walking away.

     “I told you not to call me that!” I shouted after him, not noticing I did so right into someone’s ear.

     My apology was awkward and not as sincere as I planned, as the annoyed customer moved away.

     Then, Connor was at my side again, purposely bumping into my shoulder to grab a couple of sugar packets to serve with a steaming cup of coffee.  “Excuse me, Cee,” he said with a sickly sweet smile.

     I rolled my eyes to take my first order of the morning.

     At twelve, I spent my break on the small bench outside the café.  I bit into my croissant, put it back down on the bag next to me, and watched the dead leaves run on the sidewalk.  I looked to my right as the door opened, revealing a curious Connor looking around.  I hoped my curls were doing a good job at hiding my face.

     Of course, my wild hair wasn’t big enough today to protect me from Connor, as I felt the bench creak with the weight of the extra body on it.

     “Hey, there, Cee,” Connor smiled at me, pushing his glasses up on his nose with his finger.

     Ever since I started working here three months ago, he had called me that.  I didn’t mind it when Mom or Dad used to say it, but not Connor.  Never Connor.

     “Alright, alright, then what am I supposed to call you?” he asked, tilting his head to look at me better.

     I looked up at the overhanging tree, pretending to think deeply.  “Hmm, well, I think my actual name would be nice.”

     “Fine.  What’s up, Carly?” he asked, exaggerating my name.
     “I’m trying to have some quiet time, but that’s pretty impossible with you here,” I said, ruder than I wanted it to come out.

     He nodded, and leaned back, looking straight ahead.  He was quiet for a few minutes, proving me wrong in awkward silence.  When he couldn’t take it anymore, he blurted out, “See, I can be quiet.”

     I couldn’t help but laugh.  I shook my head, but didn’t say anything.

     Another minute of silence stretched out before he stood up.  I watched him walk over to the door. Before he walked inside, he looked down at me. 

     “You know,” he started, matter-of-factly, “I’m not always that annoying.”

     I smiled.  “Good to know.”

     He smiled too and nodded as he opened the door and walked back inside.

     That night, my new routine took place, with me seated once again on the bar stool, drinking my hot chocolate.  And once again walking outside with my jacket on.  Placing the mug down next to me, I shoved my hands into the pocket of the only the thing keeping me warm.   I didn’t even notice until a few minutes later, that my fingers were playing with the edges of a folded up piece of paper.  I pulled it out of the pocket it was in, and slowly unfolded it.  It was upside down, so I flipped it over, my fingers going over the lines to straighten out the creases.  I read it, hearing the voice in my head:

     I don’t think you noticed, but I might’ve stole your croissant on the bench earlier.  I’ll buy you another one tomorrow.

     It was signed with a sloppy smiley face wearing glasses.  I shook my head, now realizing that I don’t remember finishing my buttery snack.  He must’ve slipped the note in when my coat was hung on the coat rack.  I should’ve been mad, but I found myself smiling into the darkness that surrounded the front of my house like a bubble. 

     Watching my breath dance around in the chilled air in front of me, something caught my attention in the trees.  I gasped, my eyes now wild and alert.

     Sure enough, peeking out from the trees was the familiar pale, snowy face of the owl I haven’t seen in years.  I sat there in shock for what felt like a long time, both of our eyes watching each other with caution and curiosity, neither of us daring to move.  It cocked its head to the side and I did the same.

     Finally, I smiled, realizing what was happening.  I don’t know how long I was sat there, just watching the owl, but when it finally took off, its soundless wings carrying it away from me, I was left alone, already wishing it back to me.  Back to home.