I was staring at the lock on my door when I sensed a presence. I tried to shut it out, ignore it, maybe it would go away. Maybe 10:30 landed on a branch up above. Why was it always maybe 10:30? Why not some other owl? Maybe now she was perched up there, watching me. I felt weak and ashamed, I dared not look. I looked to the window, and felt something nudging me to slip out. To slip away into the night and be free, was it that easy? Where would I go? Who would want me? Just go, to vanish into nothing? I looked again to the lock, back to the window, then back again. I was torn. Afraid. I had worth here, to give, all of myself, and let them take what they will, how they will. To be the steady ever present provider of what ever they need. To offset familiar patterns of chaos and abuse with steady kindness. To be the love here for the taking. Warm blood. Out there they’re colder, I’ve seen it, they race around stepping on each other, hurting each other, for nothing. I’m old now, they’d only mock me as a failure. I wouldn’t be enough. I’d have no worth, a lover without a soul to love.
I am not enough.
I got up, walked over, and unlocked my door. I laid back down in that old bed and waited for someone to come and stab me. With tears in my eyes, I looked to the heavens.
And I saw the owl fly away.