As time passes and I look in the mirror, my reflection seems to become more and more altered in my father’s favor. It doesn’t matter how many times I tell the universe that I am nothing like my him, it seems that it’s goal is to show me just how much I truly am a reflection, but altered. 

It’s raining here, I haven’t heard thunder since I moved to Los Angeles over a year ago. I used to live in a farm house in Ohio and was able to watch a storm literally roll in over the fields, those were the most peaceful and relaxing evenings of my life. I miss those nights, that moistness in the air, the clean smell of the grass and the raindrops dripping off the trees, natures reset button. I would sit out on the porch and listen to owls in the distance and it would transport my mind to a different time.

To this day, whenever I hear owls in the distance it reminds me of this house in the city we lived in when I was really young. The only things I remember about this house was the shag carpet and that my closet had these weird steps built into it, so it was kind of like an indoor treehouse, I would play in there for hours at a time. Okay, get all your “when’d ya come outta the closet?” jokes out of system... let’s move on. 

I was young, and my father lived with us then, that’s where we spent the most time together. I don’t know if any of you have lost anyone close to you, I’m sure you have, but I often dream of meeting up with him. The odd thing is, it’s always in that house. The place is decorated the same, and he looks just like I remember him, tall, bald, and confident. He is funny, sarcastic, and listens as if he hasn’t been watching it all play out from afar.

We sit and talk, just catching up on what’s going on in my life, and occasionally friends will stop by to meet my father. It always feels real, so real I wake up feeling confused. Not sure if I really was back in that house with my father or waking up at a Super 8 after a show in the middle of Iowa. I’m you you’ve all had those mornings, the difference is, I’m sober.

Whenever I hear owls in the distance I can’t help but wonder if I’m the only person to have these dreams, these radical journeys to this alternate universe conversing with the dead. Do I belong on day time TV with these nuts that have Elvis on speed dial, or am I just another broken toy? Maybe you have felt the same way, maybe you have had these same thoughts.

Whenever I hear owls in the distance, it’s always a bittersweet sadness. A rush of joy and then overwhelming anxiety of being confused, am I living in this reality or will I wake to find an alternate time and place. It is a constant reminder, a kick in the ass really, to take advantage of the time I do have with loved ones. I don’t get a chance to see my friends and family a lot, but when I come home it’s like we never missed a beat, and that’s the same feeling I have when I visit with my father. 

Do me a favor, when you’re done reading this, pick up your phone and call someone you care about and tell them you love them, let them know you’re thinking about them... Make a difference in the reality that you can change instead of the one you’re forced to live after they’re gone. 

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