SoCS: No More Scary Ghosts!

Today’s prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is “boo.” Find a word with the letters “boo” in it or use “boo” as is and base your post on it. Enjoy!

Knock, knock.

Who’s there?

Boo!

Boo who?

Well, you don’t have to cry about it.

Ooooold joke. Works best when spoken, with a grandchild, niece, nephew, or someone who likes simple silliness.

I haven’t cried in a long time. Not real crying where I need to remind myself to breathe so my stomach and head don’t hurt. I know how to do that. I mastered the art of real crying at the turn of the century. Thankfully, no need lately. Oh, I’ll tear up a bit at a TV show. Just yesterday, watching a Blue Bloods episode I’d even seen before, I got a tear in my eye. It doesn’t take much.

Whining is another matter. I try not to whine out loud, except to the cat. But I will whine in my head. Why did I have a touch of vertigo yesterday? Am I not able to bend over and arrange my little pebbles on my winding pathway just the way I want? Is it a sign that I am being too precise. Funny how I want a pebble just a certain way, in a certain place, but it’s gotta look wild and natural at the same time. That’s my landscaping style. Maybe this stream will come back around with some photos.

I don’t like to be scared. Maybe there was a time when I liked scary movies. Now, I’m ready for the Christmas movies. Remember when we could scare ourselves silly as teenagers at sleepovers? Or later going to visit the old railroad tracks? There was this thing in North Carolina called the Maco Light. It was near a railroad station in Maco, NC. The name is similar to my maiden name with one less c, but definitely no relation. Some guy lost his head in a train accident. He was workin on the railroad trying to warn an oncoming train with a lantern. His head was never found, or so the legend goes. When I was in my late teens, it was said that you could see old Joe looking for his head, swinging a lantern along the train track. A bunch of us convoyed to Maco one night to look for the light. We didn’t see it, but we scared ourselves silly walking along the track in the dark quiet near midnight. We screamed when a generator came on. Or was it really a generator? I have no idea. That was what? 1975? We had fun with just our imaginations. (Okay, maybe some beer, too.) I think they tore up the tracks after that. Keep those crazy kids from comin out disturbin the peace…

Now, I don’t want to be scared. Ba Humbug on scary movies and headless railroad ghosts.

I do like my neighbor’s decorations though.

Neighborhood Decorations. I like smiley ghosts.

And then there are Patrick Swayze ghosts. The movie Ghost wasn’t that scary, except for the bad guys. It was more of a romantic comedy about a ghost. I might watch that one again.

Getting back to the winding path….

It’s taken me a few months to get my winding path this far. I had a lot of roots to dig through and work around for the bricks. It’s till a work in progress. Maybe I’ll add some bottle caps and melted marbles. A little at a time.

• 

  Before

• 

  Yesterday

• 

  Close up joy rock

• 

  Close up Compassion Rock

• 

  Close up Peace Rock

~~~

Stream of Consciousness Saturday is hosted by Linda Hill. Thanks, Linda!

For more streams, rules, etc. visit Linda’s blog here.

Opening Doors

It had been a year or more since my last acupuncture session. It gives me good energy and made a headache go away once, but nothing especially dramatic. In October, I ran into the healer at a potluck. I’ve known her for years as a casual friend but had never had an acupuncture session with her until last week – after my body told me to make an appointment. But this was not a typical session. I must have been ready. The time was right. This was my experience:

∞

November 10, 2016,

two days after the sky fell,

Interrupted cries still lingered in my solar plexus

like mucus bogging down muffled screams

waiting to be flushed free.

Then the drunk guy threw a key at me

when I was only trying to help.

Who needs this?

But that cop wasn’t following  me after all

as I pulled into the space

to visit the healer with magic hands

and the skill to find the stuck places.

She began with my old friend,

Lavender,

to settle my nerves.

The first needle only hurt for a moment

as the door opened and sparks flew.

The others didn’t hurt at all.

When qi started to flow,

I almost giggled

then followed her humming

with my own breath –

Inhale, sooooew. Exhale, Haaaaaah,

like the song of the ocean.

Cardamom opened the doors wider.

Right after I turned over onto my back

is when it happened.

My cold hands finally got warm.

Then, I started to cry. And laugh. And cry.

Mama. Mama? Mama!

Is it really you?

Hold me, Mama.

My fingers can’t reach you!

Daddy is hurting. He misses you so much.

You want me to tell him you’re okay?

Mama’s okay, Daddy.

She’s okay.

Tears.

But wait.

Am I supposed to be

learning how to talk to other ghosts?

Or just my own?

Sandalwood brought me back.

Shaking, I drank from the cup of water

and called my father to give him the message

he already knew.

_________________________________________

My mother died November 14, 2008. She collected angels. Dozens of them still decorate my father’s house. He hasn’t moved any of them. And he won’t move out of that house because he feels her presence there.

Angels Among Us, a mural by JoAnne Silvia