We had to drive through that vast enclosure of pine to get home. I never noticed as a child, but I see it now, my parents always tried to travel back before nightfall. They joked with us about the owl when we were young. Tried to make it into a local fable.
But none of the children at school knew what we were talking about. They didn't know about the white of its wings. It's two giant eyes. It's silent, final dive.
But on the rare occasions we would have to drive back in the dark, my sister and I would stare out the window at the blur of dark silhouettes looming above us. And in between the treetops we'd imagine those great eyes turning to see us. The flit of silent feathers. The flash of talons.
And I am starting to think that the accident that killed mum and dad had something to do with that road. Those pines. That idea - the owl.
Paddy Dobson
12th March 2022