I spent several days in my attic reading old newspapers, but when I finally made it to the bottom of the stairs, I realized there was nothing there.
I called my parents and they didn’t seem to know anything about the house.
I went back downstairs and grabbed a shovel and began digging through the attic.
I found the house, which was about three feet below the floor of my attic, and realized I could use it as a carriage house.
When I took it down and took a closer look, it was completely intact, but the only thing missing was the owl.
When the owl arrived, I thought he was the only one who could possibly have found the carriage house, and he was right.
As I worked the owl out, I was shocked to see that I was missing a lot of things.
When he was released from the box, he said, “What do you want, daddy?”
I asked him what he wanted.
“Oh, you’ve been looking for me,” he replied.
I put the box back in the attic and wept.
When we were finished, we walked down to the street to meet my father.
He was a little embarrassed.
“Why didn’t you tell me?
I thought I found it.”
I told him about the owl, and the other missing items.
“Well, you know, the owl was just one of the things that had been hidden,” he said.
“He was not supposed to be here.
He just wasn’t supposed to have found me.”
I could see why people thought he would have left us, but he was here.
I thought of the old house as a great testament to his perseverance and hard work, and I had no doubts that he would not abandon us.