After college I moved to Boston and shared an old apartment with two girl friends. We were constantly moving furniture as we settled into our new home. It wasn’t long before we‘d all be sitting on the couch, watching tv and eating giant mugs of ice cream, when SLAM! A door would shut down the hallway. “You go check.” “No. You.” It started happening enough that we all agreed - ghosts. No other reasonable explanation! Conversations with friends and neighbors confirmed - ghosts hate when you move furniture around - everyone knows that! What were we to do? We were so broke that we split Subway sandwiches into thirds. Moving was not an option. We came to the conclusion that perhaps we could charm these ghosts, or at the very least, convince them to not scare us.
”Alright, I know you don’t like this, but we’re going to move the couch to make room for the party we are having tonight - ok?” we’d shout, feeling increasingly confident this would solve our ghostly problems. “I’m going down the back stairwell to do laundry now. DON’T scare me. You know I don’t like that.” The door slamming seemed to decrease. Once I saw a door move open slowly, only to revert its path and head quietly back to close. “That’s right! We like quiet around here!” And I went back to reading my book. Leveling with these ghosts gave me just the confidence a 20-something needs to stay in a rent controlled apartment with an illegal third bedroom.
As I grow older, I feel more pity for restless spirits than fear. They must be exhausted. Haunting graveyards in all kinds of inclement weather and searching for things while wailing and moaning - I can sort of relate! If they are waiting here in ghostly limbo, it must not be all that pleasant. A woman in white flying over peoples lawns? Is it your keys, dear? I can’t find mine, either.
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Happy Halloween to our readers! The candy is all for me this year as I head out with two little bumblebees. ๐ ๐
