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professionaljaywlkerI've never known my grandmother on my mother's side, she died from cancer before I was born. Honestly, considering what she did to my mom, I'm not particularly mad about it. She's not an evil woman, but she was not a good mother.
This grandmother however had an obsession with owls. When I went to my grandfather's house, I remember spending hours looking at them. In general, my grandfather's house is where a lot of really bird-like stuff I did in my childhood happened. It's where I caught lizards. It's where I sunbathed, with a specific spot where the walls reverberate the heat in the most pleasing way. I climbed trees, and we'd stack branches in the fig tree trying to make a treehouse in a decidedly bird-like manner, with my cousins and brother.
In my mind, I've always, if genetics were involved, somewhat attributed my bird-hood to this dead grandmother, if anyone. I'd never met her, but because I never met her, she's an owl, like all of the ceramic owls she left in her wake, in my mind. Perhaps I never actually cared much about my human grandmother at all. Perhaps the owl statues themselves, in a way, were my grandmother.
We're selling the house, now. I can't save them all. I can't take them all home, there's dozens of them, everywhere. But I hope I can take at least one with me. In a weird way, it's the only family that I have that is a bird like me. There's a big one, quite ornate, sitting above the piano in the main room. Most are stylized, but that one always felt quite lifelike to me. I don't have a story of talking to it, I don't even have a story of feeling particularly close to it before my awakening, but its this one that always come in my mind when I think about the owl statues of my grandmother. So I hope I can save that one, if I must save only one.
This grandmother however had an obsession with owls. When I went to my grandfather's house, I remember spending hours looking at them. In general, my grandfather's house is where a lot of really bird-like stuff I did in my childhood happened. It's where I caught lizards. It's where I sunbathed, with a specific spot where the walls reverberate the heat in the most pleasing way. I climbed trees, and we'd stack branches in the fig tree trying to make a treehouse in a decidedly bird-like manner, with my cousins and brother.
In my mind, I've always, if genetics were involved, somewhat attributed my bird-hood to this dead grandmother, if anyone. I'd never met her, but because I never met her, she's an owl, like all of the ceramic owls she left in her wake, in my mind. Perhaps I never actually cared much about my human grandmother at all. Perhaps the owl statues themselves, in a way, were my grandmother.
We're selling the house, now. I can't save them all. I can't take them all home, there's dozens of them, everywhere. But I hope I can take at least one with me. In a weird way, it's the only family that I have that is a bird like me. There's a big one, quite ornate, sitting above the piano in the main room. Most are stylized, but that one always felt quite lifelike to me. I don't have a story of talking to it, I don't even have a story of feeling particularly close to it before my awakening, but its this one that always come in my mind when I think about the owl statues of my grandmother. So I hope I can save that one, if I must save only one.
