I saw a photo on Instagram of a coyote at the beach. It made me remember this one time when I was on vacation and I thought I would try a sunrise out for fun. I hopped in the golf cart, drove from the condo to the beach, and saw a “stray dog” on my way. I pulled over, got out, squatted down low to the ground, and used my obnoxious “you’re an animal and I fucking love you sooooo much” voice and called the “stray dog” over to “come home with momma” in the golf cart. A man pulled up behind me as the “stray dog” slowly began walking towards me, rolled down his window, and asked me what the fuck I was doing. It was not a “stray dog” it was a starving coyote. Nothing changed for me upon learning this other than my sentiment towards not doing mornings grew stronger and more solidified. I hopped back in the golf cart, rubbed my eyes with grains of sand all over my hands that put so much effort into crawling low towards the wild animal, drove to the kolache and donut shop, ordered up, and loaded up on mustard packets. Who eats a kolache without mustard? Weird people. Who picks up a coyote in a golf cart? Night owls. 

The boys and I went on a few late-night walks this last week. I love the rain, I love walking in the rain, I love the mud and the puddles, and I love walking in them. My hair has to be at the point of no return for me to surrender it to nature. And believe me, my hair was in a constant state of no return this last week, so I surrendered entirely, and boy did it pay off. My mom and I had been chatting earlier about the stars and I told her it was not yet dark here, but when it was, I would be sure to take a gander. So after dinner and a quick change out of my pj’s, the boys and I embarked on a midnight stroll around the hood. I have a very beloved pair of clogs that offer the most amazing amount of support that when I put them on I am certain I sigh out loud. I had these bad boys on and if you can imagine my personality and put that into my feet, you can likely reproduce the sound and certainty in my stride. Top that off with clogs on the pavement and the increased silence midnight tends to bring. The moon was huge and bright, the road filled with puddles, and finally, a little breeze was coming through forcing the humidity to remove its dirty little fingers off our mouths enabling us to enjoy the walk. Sans what Avery deemed were too loud of footsteps. Pff. “Are you wearing boots or what?!” Remember, my Utopian bubble is thin. It popped, and not from the weight of my clog. 

Otis and I are in sync (not so much Backstreet…had to). There is a large Oak tree at the front of the neighborhood and as he and Avery were rounding the corner and chatting it up, I noticed something quite large rustling through the limbs. I thought I was seeing shit because my eyesight at night is a fucking real treat that leads to wild imagination and the wearing out of Bossy’s brake pads. But, Otis looked at me and had the “Did you just see that Mom?” look on his face. So I nodded back with confirmed crazy night eyes like rightttttttttt? He pointed to the ledge of the rooftop and I hesitated to believe it and claimed it was just one of the little adornments they have on their roof. Until its fucking head moved right at us. The walk had already felt a little eerie as my friend and neighbor passed a few weeks ago and we were chatting about it. Not because of the sound of my serial killer who walks slow and confident boots, I was stomping away with. So I slowly slid my hand down my body into my pocket and pulled my phone out as if I was in some Wild West standoff. I pushed the phone against my body and slid it back up. I tried my best not to blink and certainly not take a step, even though I wanted to show my clogs off to my new friend. I am certain said new friend was rolling them big ol eyes at me and thinking what a fucking fool, all these efforts to “hide” what you are doing, just take the fucking picture and hobble on in your ugly ass shoes (I knew he saw them!). 

I never have the flash on my camera, because, ew. However, it is always my luck that it magically is on at the most inopportune of times. For instance, when I am taking a photo of a man at the post office because he has a ball of orange hair front and center on his head and nothing else but an extravagant white mustache/handlebars. Knowing if the flash was on the owl would likely fly away and my neighbors would see me taking photos outside of their house and call the cops, I said a little prayer to my Sky Daddy. Sky Daddy basically said get it girl and I successfully managed to capture two photos. Shortly after, the owl leaped off the ledge and swooped down towards us lifting his nighttime silhouette just as he approached our heads. I am talking maybe four feet in front of us. He was playing gamesssssss, in fact, I heard him whisper “psych” as he pulled up. Total fucking flirt. I was in shock and so upset I was not filming it all. because what an amazing and beautiful thing it would have been to capture, but after a day of thinking about it (beyond what one would consider a healthy amount) I accepted it was much more beautiful that I was in the moment with my sons and was able to take it in. As lovely as the experience sounds, I cannot say I was quiet (insert shock emoji), I was not. I squealed and shrieked three times as I began to squat down in direct correlation to his flight pattern. You know damn well clogs add some height and I thought for certain he was coming to perch in my savage nest-like hair. Yes, he was that close and it seemed like a direct flight from the roof to my head. As it turns out, owls live up to the wisdom they are known for and can see just fine at night. Because Lord knows had he landed on my head, I would have absolutely tackled myself, rolled around, wrapped my arms around him, and held on to him while running back home. I cannot believe I doubted his eyesight as if he were more like me in ways other than just enjoying the night and being a natural flirt. Crazy to think I was going to birdnap an owl who in actuality was just trying to get me to go away. I should probably wash my hair more often. The walk was nice though.