Haunting

In life, many things will haunt you. We have a way of haunting ourselves with the should have could have would have. These are not that kind of haunting. I have always attracted spirits and ghosts. There are many energies among us. After my grandfather died, I moved back to Barstow, California to help my grandmother. Grandma took a trip with my mother and brother to Illinios, and I stayed home to watch after things. The first night I started noticing things. Stuff you usually dismiss with other people in the house. My grandmother was a very neat and orderly homemaker. Grandmas house was not where you went to make a mess; she was worse than Monica Geller. The house had the kind of carpet that you could see footprints on, hours of my childhood spent rubbing the carpet back and forth to see the patterns. I worked 3rd shift at the time, great when your 20 with no kids. As usual, I arrive home as the sun is rising. First thing I notice when I walk in in the house, and it smells like fresh coffee, no one was there, there was no coffee. It could have easily been a neighbor. I notice grandpa’s chair was pulled away from the table, still thinking maybe I bumped it on my way out the door. I head to my room, from the doorway I see at the beginning of the hall there are footprints that start at the hall and go all the way down. I felt a rush of panic; I grabbed the broom and slowly began down the hall. Looking at each footprint as I slowly crept down the hall peaking in rooms one by one. The footprints go into my grandmother’s room, straight to grandpa’s side of the bed and on his side was a dent on the pillow as though someone had laid on it. The panic rushed away as quickly as it set in. My fear turned to understanding and sadness. Grandpa was still with us; he wasn’t going just to let go of his love for my grandmother. Every tear she shed he was right by her side. Shortly after that grandma sold the house and moved to Lucerne Valley with my mom and I moved to Palm Springs to be young and dumb. Boy was I too, that’s stories for another time. Even there, I could walk into anything everything from the shelves in a straight line on the floor from one end of the apartment to another. Nothing as severe as what came when Yancy died and then my mom. Yancy had very distinct big heavy footsteps. He loved coffee, and it would fill the air with its distinct scent just before you’d hear his footsteps going down the hall upstairs and then the squeak of his door opening and closing. Sometimes you’d hear it a couple times back to back. Nothing can compete with my mothers energy. Immediately following her death things became very poltergeisty. The shutters in the living room would open and close. Sometimes alternating as to say don’t try to rationalize this I’m trying to get your attention. The lights would begin turning on and off in multiple rooms. Tv and radios would turn up full blast and then all the way down then off and on. When it first started I had gotten a babysitter for my then 1-year-old daughter. After 30 minutes the sitter called me crying frantic begging me to come home strange things were happening with the shutters and lights. I finally broke down crying and started shouting “Mom if this is you I don’t understand what your trying to tell me, your scaring me” and it stopped. She leads me differently now. Over the last 7 years I have learned that she only gets to haunting when I don’t follow my intuition. The more I ignore the stronger it becomes until the entire house has gone haywire with lights and sounds, alarms and things being knocked off shelves. My other half made a promise to my mother when she was dying. Everytime he fails, she tells on him. He knows it and so do I. She said she’d always be with me and she is. Now, this one, I don’t think is my mother. This one plays with babies in the kitchen drawers and cabinets, this one opens doors. This spirit used to follow me to work and pull things down off shelves on people it didn’t like. Maybe this is my mom, acting out differently. One thing for sure I am never alone.

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