October!
They haunt me all the time. The ghosts of my former self. The ghosts of my fairly-recent-self. The ghosts of my untold-future.
There's the shadow of nineteen year old me who fell madly in love with an older, gigantic BYU offensive lineman and who, when it became painfully certain he didn't share the sentiments, went on a desperate stalking phase, a phase so wildly consumed it would be illegal had it been brought to the public's attention.
(There she is again, dating/kissing/stalking this guy at the cost of some vital relationships. Oh the agony!)
And who, in that same year, had a friend's father who unexpectedly died and that ghost couldn't get herself to cross her dear friend's doorstep because she felt so overwhelmingly insecure about what to say and how to console at such a painful hour.
I have been visited by the ghost of my high school past who should've/could've/would've gotten that English Sterling Scholar award, after the adviser strongly advised her to go after it, but was too scared to think she was smart enough. And who also should have been nicer to her boyfriend because he was really a funny guy and he didn't have long to surf this world's waves of mortality.
There have been sightings of myself as early as last week, self-absorbed in late-term pregnancy woes. She visited me just last night, making me resort to a stuttering apology to Chup.
"I've just been so SELFISH lately. I am so SORRY. I don't know what's GOTTEN IN TO ME."
(Except, I soberly confess, I know exactly what's gotten into me...)
And on some evenings, after the raucousness of bedtime is over, I'll creep into my children's rooms and whisper in their warm ears, "I am sorry I am messing you up! I promise I don't mean to. It's just what happens when an imperfect woman tries to raise perfect children!" Those are the nights when I've been checked by the spirit of my future and I'm left to realize there's nothing to be done. There's nothing to be done! I will be that mom. And that mom . . . and that mom.
(You know, the one wearing the muu-muu at carpool?)
Yes, I believe in ghosts except, my ghosts don't say "BOO!" they say, "DOH!" and "DUH!" and they really don't care about my silly adventures, my experiments, my daring escapades. No, these ghosts only visit to remind me to be nice to people . . . and to myself.
Thanks for the haunts, October.
photo Jed Wells
What? You wanted to see some outtakes?
And one more, with belly, looking . . . scared? Spooked? Suspicious?:
It is a tradition here on my blog that I write a fictionally non-fiction Halloween-themed story. It's so fun (smoking ghosts! a tent! Charles Dickens!) except, this year I can't breathe when I sit down to type and so, I am posting a better option for us all, Stephanie Mabey's IF I WERE A ZOMBIE video which you will LOVE! LOVE! LOVE! AND WATCH TWENTY TIMES! It's spooky and quirky and perfect for your house party tonight!
(Also it's a free download here!)
Happy Halloween you non-brain-eating zombies!
