Little Ann

Little Ann was born on a stormy night.

I knew she had been born because the owls were talking so much last night and then this morning there was a little head where an egg used to be.

I did not know that she was little Ann that day and it would take me a whole year to learn that we could talk to each other but I remember the night she was born.

I had just turned 6 the week before.

It is so exciting to be 6 with so much world to explore, but the night little Ann was born I did not feel big or brave. The lighting and thunder were in another one of their fights and this was a bad one. They always seem to make such a mess, as they role and tumble their way through our mountain top.

I know that I have nothing to do with their fights but they rattle me just the same and will sometimes keep me awake. Which is why I could hear the owls asking each other WHOO WHOOO is watching the babies in the nest?

By the time morning came in, the winds had shooed away all the grumpy grumbling clouds and angry flashes. The thunder and the lightning had each had their say and left an assortment of new arrangements and pearls of water on most every leaf.

It really was the most perfect morning to meet your new world.

And this would be Little Ann’s very first morning, about as high up, as my dad on top of a ladder, in our old oak tree.

I still had a scab over my knee from when I had climbed the pine tree nearby, so I could see if there were any eggs in the nest. And there were! Three beautiful big white eggs, well they were not that big, not like an ostrich egg but they were bigger than our chicken, Miss Mable’s eggs. Three whole eggs, Three!!!

Before the morning sunshine made her way through my window, I jumped out of bed and ran out the door. I did not care if my knee had even healed, I was headed up that pine tree, with my binoculars and I was going to stay there until I saw, who was making those new noises, from the nest.

I did not have to wait long, since the mama and the papa were busy collecting the morning mice for their breakfast/dinner.

At first I could only see two babies but I was certain I had seen three eggs. I couldn’t move, they were so cute and fluffy, their eyes were closed but they would wiggle about. And then I saw her, she looked small compared to her brothers. At first I didn’t know if she was even breathing, she lay there, so tiny and still. And then she moved, ever so slightly, she moved her face towards the direction of the morning sun.

I could barely hear my mom calling me to breakfast, over the sound of my heartbeat. I didn’t want to go to school. I didn’t want to spend all day learning to read and write. I wanted to stay in the scratchy pine tree and make sure all the owl babies were ok. But just as I decided to be good and naughty and ignore my mum, the mama owl came back and tucked all the little ones under her and settled in to sleep the day away.

School flew by that day and the next and the next. I became a professional tree climber and have not scraped my knees in four days. The owls sleep all day, so I can only see the babies in the early morning or right before the sun goes down, which is fine by me. The babies are growing and growing and growing, by the time I had a big break from school the baby owls did not look like baby owls anymore. Little Ann’s two brothers had already been flying off and getting their own food.

They sure do grow up a lot faster than me. By the time I had finished reading through my first chapter book, they had learned to be an owl.

Little Ann was a bit more like me. It seemed to take her a bit longer to learn to be an owl. I think she was taking her time, deciding what kind of owl she wanted to be. While her brothers were busy diving for mice, Little Ann would be found watching the ants go marching on. She knew she was an owl but she just seemed to be in no rush to become one.

It was not long before her brothers and parents set off to new destinations but Little Ann seemed happy to stay in the old oak tree.

And it was there, perched in one of the lower branches, that Little Ann and I became the bestest of friends. She was my bestest of friend as I went through school and long after I grew up to become me.

She taught me to listen, as I learned to read and write in school.They don’t teach you tools like an owl can. Like how to focus on one thing and helping your mind control what you hear as you fuzzy the other noises that can filter in.

When I was in second grade. I was finding it so hard to listen to the teacher or the instructions on my page, when all the other noises filled my ears instead. There was giggles over there and Tommy, right near my head, as Emma looked for her colored, rainbow pencil and Lucas ate his nails. Oh it would send me a flutter as my school work sat unfinished.

She taught me to talk, as I learned the sound of my thoughts.

We talked and listened all the time, every morning and every evening, we would meet on the lower branch of our old oak tree. Talking, listening, together.

As the years passed and I would unravel my days. She would listen so intently then ask, but "whooo are you?"
Listening taught me that I can hear what people say. Their words are their own but who I am remains the same. 

 Unless I let them change my game. Then I end up stumbling around in a jacket too big or flying high, with a superhero cloak, that I had not seen before.
Words are amazing and learning to write is swell, reading is great but listening, well listening does not let all the words, do as they may. Listening lets the words soak in.

Little Ann never dumped truck loads of words on me. She kept it simple, always bringing it back to, “Whooo are you?”

 She would listen to my rambles, dreams and drama. She would hear my heart break and my laughter explode. She would gather my words, like breadcrumbs to my soul, and gaze with love and admiration at the story of my soul.

So if you have a little Ann in your life, I smile with happy at the joy that that friendship brings. And if you don’t, well that is ok, you can be a little Ann to anyone, most any day.