Superb Owls: A Tale of Talking Twice My friend suggested a work around for certain commercial terms that one must not utter in early winter. Instead of talking about an oversized bowl filled with football players, we talk about superb owls who don’t get fined by the NFL. It was on Superb Owl Sunday this February past that I said what I had felt convicted say. It was the culmination of a long weekend spent learning to let go. I had *locked my hopes for a different future securely to posts from our past. The bands inscribed “Beloved” formed silver linings along these clouds of broken promise. I cried and prayed a little, sitting in one of the old wooden swings. I'd held my firstborn there. I reflected on all my years that light had seen. Then I hurled the contents of my stomach onto the cold, damp sand. I think I had the flu. ~*~ I rehearsed what I might say all along the two-hour way. I wanted to build an olive bridge. We made the exchange as decreed by law and then I spoke my part...