Rooted, I used to think.

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Sunday, Nov. 07, 2021 @ 10:11 am
The Owl

I’m at a dinner party, and I’m asked to tell my story.

“You know what,” Nicole says, interrupting my story, “I bet that was an owl.”

I stop telling my story as my brain processes this new information.

The silent attack from behind. A set of talons grazing my skull. My ponytail, tantalizing like a squirrel tail. The time of day and location perfect for owl activity.

Back at home, laying in bed, I press my face into Russell’s chest.

“I’m so dumb. Of course it was an owl. All of that fuss for nothing. I feel like an idiot.”

He rubs my back.

“You didn’t know. You still don’t know for sure - you didn’t see what hit your head. We went through this before you went into the hospital. We discussed whether it could be a bird, but given that you didn’t see what hit you, you had to take the conservative approach.”

I am going to go back there at dusk, to that bend in the trail in the forest, with my ponytail and a flashlight.

I need to know.

Roots | Shoots