“We are not alone”, my friend, Maria declared the first time she visited my century old Victorian home. “I sense spirits, the presence of souls that
have come before us.” Since Maria was a self-proclaimed psychic and I was a self-proclaimed cynic, I poured her another glass of wine and tried to change the subject.
Just then, the windows rattled, and the candle flickered. Maria took it as a sign we had disturbed the ghosts while I believed it was a result of the wind against the drafty windows.
Soon small things like keys or tv remotes began to move. They simply were no longer where I was certain I had left them. After a long frustrating search, I would find them hidden somewhere strange like a coat pocket or under a couch cushion.
While it could have been forgetfulness, I began to think ghosts were the real culprit. After missing a doctor’s appointment because I couldn’t find my keys, I decided to fight back. I put air tags on my keys and purse so I could easily track them down once I found my cell phone. Satisfied I had solved the problem whatever it was, I began to relax. But my relief was short-lived. I had underestimated the determination and sneakiness of my house mates. Since they easily figured out how to get around my vigilance, I’ve accepted that they are indeed ghosts.
Only a true spirit could bide their time and take advantage of my absence when I leave my mom alone with one of my siblings. I never know what I’ll find when I return. When my brother’s back was turned, the ghost went through the refrigerator, throwing out everything that was even one day beyond the sell-by date. I didn’t discover this until the night I wanted ketchup on my fries. I swear I heard them laughing while I cursed them out,
Undeterred by my anger, they struck again when my sister was supposed to be in charge. This time the damage wasn’t as severe as the refrigerator raid but was more pervasive. Spices were rearranged and containers were separated from their lids. That was just the kitchen. My size 14 clothes were interspersed with mom’s size 2s and all were put in the wrong drawers. Forget the living room. It’s just too much to talk about.
I’ve reached the breaking point with the ghosts and am taking drastic measures to get rid of them. Who am I gonna call? GHOSTBUSTERS!
