|The house, 1986|
Last Friday afternoon, the previous owners of the house came to visit. They were in the neighborhood from Maine visiting an in-law, and thought they would drop in share with us some old photos. Of course, we were petrified, but they were really quite lovely.
"You are the third generation of gays to live here," Todd, the older half of the equation informed me, clearly pleased with this fact. "We bought it from an older gay couple, and we are delighted to be able to hand it over to you."
The shared with us photos of the house. Some from the sixties, when the house was being transported six miles to its present location. One set of photos was in an album, dated June 1986. "We were holding a yard sale, and a couple came over to us and handed this to us," said Chase, the younger half (and yes, I did take note of the fact that there was an age difference between the two, just like me and Corb). "They told us they bought the home and wanted to make it their dream house. They ran out of money."
"Wow, this place has come a long way." And boy, has it. What these two did to transform the house...the love and attention to detail they poured into it...is nothing short of amazing.
And then the conversation turned to ghosts.
"Seven," Chase informed us, rather firmly. His partner looked away. "Two men and five women."
"Seven ghosts?" I asked, rather shocked. I honestly hadn't felt much of anything. But then again, I never do.
"Is there one in the servant stairway?" asked Corb. "I thought I saw something crouching there the first day we moved in."
"A male," said Chase. "But they are all very nice. None of them even made themselves known until after about a year."
We had a smudging done a few days before that, by my friend Psychic Sue. The place reeked of burnt sage. "But you hardly need this, because the ghosts that you have here are completely harmless," she laughed.
Since our visit, we've had little incidences. Saturday we were sitting in the living room and three books fell off the shelves without warning. We returned home that night and the television had been turned on. Another book had fallen off a shelf upstairs. This evening Corb saw the door to the pantry being jiggled open.
The key for me was being alone in the house. This morning, when Corb left for work. I was left all alone for the first time. I braced myself, fearing the worst. But I felt nothing, only peace. That was a good sign.
Seven ghosts. I am okay with that.