I thought we would never ever ever get the house cleared out. It was the biggest job ever. But when we finally got done this afternoon, it was so nice to sit and admire the house's lovely bones.
And lovely they are:
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| plus lovely boy and lovely cat |
Have I mentioned that I have always loved this house? Of course, I know I have. But it bears repeating.
I should tell you a secret of this house. If you haven't already heard it from me, because it is not really a secret. I have lived with a ghost for the past 15 years.
I need to explain before I explain. I don't think people hang around after they die. They have better things to do, for the most part. COULD they hang around if they really really want to? Maybe...I dunno. What I do know is that people leave stuff behind when they leave. Just like I left a couple of things in the house today. But not just physical stuff. Every house I have ever been to, especially the empty ones has their own particular vibe. Have you ever felt it? I often do.
There once was a girl called Agnes. She was born sometime around the the turn of the twentieth century in a little white house with a porch in Carroll. She married young, and was widowed shortly after because of an influenza outbreak. She went back home to live with her family, and was the only one still at home to take care of her father after he had a stroke. After he died in the house, she tore it down and built a little brick bungalow, in 1929.
The house, and Agnes, flourished. The house became the locale of many small gatherings, card clubs, and the famous Flower and Cactus Garden Club (happy times).. Eventually Agnes married again, a much older man named William, who took her on long trips all over the United States (probably looking for cacti). Before too many years went by, William also passed away after a short illness. Agnes went on with her life in the little brick bungalow. The only other story I know about her is that late in life when a neighborhood boy would come over to mow her lawn, she would meet him at the end of the hot thirsty job with two store-bought cookies on a china plate. Of course she would have been disappointed if he did not choke down their crumbly dryness with a smile.
Anyway, shortly after I moved into my house, I saw Agnes. Sitting in my living room one night, I watched a dark silhouette walk from one bedroom into the other. No, I was not freaked out. I'm not sure why. After that night, there were many Agnes sightings, day and night. Some were reruns of that original silhouette, others were unique experiences, like an woman smelling the roses outside who disappeared more quickly than an old woman could walk. One very interesting and seemingly interactive one was a voice we caught on a recording of a woman's sing-songy voice calling, "JOR-dan..."
I hope you aren't freaked out. Whatever you want to call these experiences, there was always just a happy vibe attached to them. I like to think that Agnes, being so happy during the 50 years in the little brick bungalow, left something of her energy behind for all of us to experience. Makes me wonder what I can do to leave behind a happy vibe wherever I go.
Today, before I left the house for the last time, I took pictures. One is a little unusual, There is a beam of sunlight streaming in through the dining room window, and it makes a strange little 3 dimensional shape on the floor. Maybe it's Agnes in angelic form, saying goodbye. I'm okay with whatever you decide.
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