I am a haunted woman.
I was a haunted child.
Winter this year is just rough. It is bringing some intense cold air and wind followed by a tease of warmth thinking it is safe to leave the house in flip flops with those un-pedicured feet of yours. Even this weekend roared with a storm that caused us to miss a concert. Like fucking bless. When it comes to this particular season I hold a negative bias. I am not a fan of cold, too much clothing, or the fact that I have to wear shoes. My skin hates winter. My diabetic neuropathy has an opinion about it as well. I weathered the first two arctic blasts that somehow made it’s way to Mississippi’s Gulf beach with loves. But the third, well, it was just me and the gran-cat.
I truly did try to embrace Winter Storm Inga. I did. I kicked it off with a pot of hot toddy’s (my latest winter obsession in the land of drinks, seriously it is yum!) shared with my cousin. After he left I began the process of hunkering down. Inga brought some major weather that nobody down here is use to. Starting with loving my skin I am feeling confident about the next few days cooped up in the homestead with Sammie and her neurotic old self. I really was.
For Christmas I received this pimp robe from travels to San Antonio over this past Summer (where I fell in love with the robe, fruit shaved ice, and Taco, Taco). I was living in this robe during the weekend. It’s a vibrant western-esque robe, soft, and very me. My songbird says I look like a sombrero in it…I do not care. I dig it. As the sun goes down, the house grows colder, and being that our home is under major remodeling lights through out the house are not there. I am fluttering about in my robe doing this/that by candle light when I keep hearing a clanking noise. Every time I hear it I stop. Listen. It stops. I self-talk that whatever is trying to haunt me during this particular time is not a good idea and breathe woman breathe….the wind kicks up, the sleet gets louder….and I dared to peek outside.
I opened the glass door only to catch in my peripheral the long nose of a possum that seems to be living with us these days. This little guy is not shy, we’ve watched him come up to the glass door while it is closed. I scream and slammed the door shut. Thinking the door was safely locked I ran back to my bedroom to hide under the comfort and warmth of my covers.
Clank, Clank, Clank I hear again as I run but I do not care because the possum was enough to make me almost poo myself. A ghost I can handle, maybe, yes. A possum, no, not even gonna try.
Twenty-four hours into the storm I am going nuts, the nerves are shot, and I am over the gloom of it. The neighborhood settled in a silence only experienced in the movies. I attempted yoga and the whatnot but between the fear of the possum and fear of whoever the fuck was trying to haunt me this week I didn’t get far in my flows.
Still I kept pushing and reminding myself soon the weather will clear. The first day the sun was out I quickly began opening the windows. I am a firm believer in letting the negative out and positive in…and you can do this simply by opening your damn windows. It is not rocket science loves. Just open the window. Let the light IN!
Clank! Clank! Clank! I still am hearing as I go to the back door in observance what weather has done to the backyard and flowers alike only to notice my glass door is slightly ajar. Locked still. But open none the less. I watch so much Dateline that my first reaction was a frozen one. I turn and look through out the room. I have to really be rational because I do know nobody is in the house with me. You would have heard them. It is too old a house to be sneaky in and I was up all fucking night anyway.
Breathe woman! Breathe!
In one of my deep breaths I take a harder look outside, the door, it’s lock, and what was actual in my site line a few nights ago….
And in that breathing the clanking came to me…
My possum was a black and white rug I had tossed outside but because I was so scared of it already being there, being alone during a chill that landed in my bones, my mind only saw possum. Not once did I register that it was the rug. No. In my fear I locked the door before I slammed it shut and literally left myself exposed for two days. Lovely huh? Needless to say I will not be opening the door during the next freeze. I will however still be wearing my robe even though it is the source of my haunting…the clank, clank, clank was actually my fluttering down the hallway and my robe catching the heater vent.
I was in fact my own ghost.
Ha!
The Ramblings of an Aging Woman... 