“Stinky” the Owl has claimed his piece of the sky.

His awkward flutters have turned into confident soaring.

He flits around from tree to tree.

Gliding from one side of the street to the other; observing the world from the highest of branches, hiding in plain sight. He blends into the shadows, is camouflaged by resurrection fern, is cloaked in Spanish Moss.

But….he is not invisible.

He is not off the radar.

Although I have trouble finding him among the labyrinth of limbs and the maze of branches, my husband does not.

He easily picks “our owl’s” voice out of the choir of birds greeting sunrise; welcoming nightfall.

He recognizes his shape among the gnarled branches, his mannerisms; the distinctive way he bobs his head before taking off, the curve of his wings as he lands.

He is attuned to this being as of it were the baby we never had together; honed in on every movement, sound and detail.

I recall the times he stood nervously behind my son, who became his son, as he teetered too close to the edge of things, tottered too far for comfort.

I laugh as I lose the owl and my husband to the darkening sky.

Watch my husband race down the street, keeping “Stinky” in sight; the way he raced after our son wobbling on his bike; training wheels off for the first time.
Hand outstretched in front of him ready to steady the bike if needed, steer him away from cars, provide a soft landing should he fall.

Much like children on bicycles, owls in the sky gain momentum quickly. Outpace those behind them, break free of the safety nets, go faster and higher than we imagine them capable of.

We have no choice in those moments but to feel the pounding of our own hearts as they simultaneously leap and break , hold our breath and hope they can fly.

***Stay tuned, I will be posting a more detailed update on “Stinky” next weekend.***