At 62…Ghosts

As I write this, there are exuberant, racing footsteps dancing above my head on the second floor. I’m alone here, and for a second, I freeze. Then I relax, realizing it’s just Gabriel, feeling the oats of a crisp fall morning, as he moves into his fourth year of life.

Houses creak. One of our windows regularly gives off a gunshot sound, startling all who are near. There’s never a crack, never a nick, nothing has hit it. It just randomly enjoys making us jump. The first time it happened, Mike was instantly outside, looking for damage to the glass. As time went on, we just shrugged and kept on about our business. Houses creak.

I remember one of Michael’s early texts to me. He was in a happy place, thinking of his mama, and feeling her close by as he did chores that morning. It was a blessing, a benediction, knowing he was doing exactly what he needed to be doing, in a brief moment when all was right with the world.

My daddy was a woodworker by hobby. He created the most beautiful inlaid boxes, wooden albums, and a table I cherish. I used to watch him by the hour. Years after Daddy passed, but before the time of Google, I decided to refinish our dining room chairs. I’d never done it, and I honestly had no clue. From nowhere, the knowledge of what to use came to me. The type of stripper, the type of oil, even how to cover the seats – suddenly, I felt Daddy’s hands on mine as I worked. The peace and the satisfaction he found from reclaiming the wood poured into my hands. All these years later, I can still feel that sunny afternoon on the deck and the wood under my fingers.

Halloween candy beckons me from the store shelves. For me, that’s always been my favorite night of the year. I still remember the first Halloween when Catlin figured it all out – those magical three words opened doors and yummy treats spilled into her basket. That year, I’d spent hours re-making a black satin witch costume that Mama made for me when I was tiny. I added big golden sequin stars and sequin swirls to the cape and hat, and made a fluffy black tulle skirt to go over the original. I helped Mama made her grandbaby a costume, even though she was no longer here to do it. I still see the golden flashes of sequins I sewed into that voluminous skirt as she seemed to float above the grass as she ran. Mama Magic.

Fall is my favorite season. It’s a time of riotous color, of apple cider and cherished recipes. It’s a time of beginnings, a time of change, and a time of closure. It’s a time of family and friends. It’s a time of memories. It’s a time of ghosts.

And as we add more years to our tallies, those ghosts – both real and of memory – grow more numerous. It’s our task to keep adding to our family treasure chest, creating traditions and passing along skills – all while celebrating and embracing our years well-lived. Someday, those skills will bless our loved ones well into the future, as our hands invisibly cover theirs to do what we no longer can.

Loving the ghosts who continue to bless me…at 62.