When my great great grandmother, Ethel Irene, was 5 in 1909, she was very poor. She asked for one thing for Christmas, a baby doll and when she opened her present from the church she got a rough, heavy, cast iron owl statue with a small slot for pennies. She broke into tears, grieving the doll she had hoped for. As many years went on, she had forgotten where that small statute had gone, however upon returning to the little farm where her brother now lived, in her 30s she came upon a “rock” while tilling the garden that turned out to be that owl. She ran inside, cleaning it with turpentine and painting it gold. From that day on she never forgot it again. Grandma Ethel gifted it to my grandmother, who gifted it to me a year or two ago as a young girl who always has loved owls, just like my grandma. Deep down I believe that my love for owls is rooted in my family history. The owl makes me feel connected to ones who had come before me. From the day I received this owl, I was blessed with the stories that surround it which I continue to learn more about with each passing year. Owls symbolize guiding people through periods of change, and even though I am not closely related to any immigrants, my family changed so much from the time of this owl and I believe, this owl guided my great great grandma, my grandma, and soon me through times of sorrow.

– J

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