The Tolling of the Bells: A blessing and a ghostie (or two)

     It’s time to sound off again already.  The weeks are flying by over here.  I’ve been busier than a one-legged man in that proverbial butt kicking contest, and things are just going to get busier.  I got word from the court reporter I contract with that she got promoted to head reporter in her firm.  That means more work for both of us, which means more pay for both of us.  This is great news, because we got a new-to-us truck. 

     I just paid off our old truck, a little standard, all manual Tacoma.  It was a good little truck, with stress on the word little, and with everything being bare bones basic, it wasn’t exactly the most comfortable thing to ride in or drive around.  But it was a good little truck and paid for.  Matter of fact, paying off that truck is the primary reason we were able to get Internet. 

     Enter sweet deal part the first:  A Dodge 1500 Laramie, Longhorn edition, with all the bells and whistles.  Blue book sale value at about 27-28,000, sticker priced for 23,000.  It’s got all the things a broke-back grunt could want, primarily, a higher cab clearance and eight-way adjustable seats that are both heated and cooled.  Pretty much everything else could go hang, but the seats and the cab clearance needed an upgrade.  Pa could and did drive the Tacoma, but even for a short trip just down to the doctor and back, he’d come back barely able to walk, with one leg numb and the other misfiring.  He would be stove up for days just driving down to the next major town for a bit of shopping.  But even at 5,000 below blue book value, that truck was out of our price range.  We just couldn’t swing the payments for it. 

     Enter sweet deal part the second.  That Tacoma I mentioned?  It was a 2008, so no spring chicken, and it had cosmetic problems with both the interior and the exterior.  No mechanical problems, but being generous, private party sale blue book value would only have been 5,000.  Those guys at the car lot told Pa they’d give him 8,000 for the Tacoma and drop the price of a Laramie another 2,000.  So basically, we got double value for the Tacoma, and a very nice truck for 7,000 below blue book value. 

     So now we have a truck payment again, but we all love the new truck.  The old truck was a regular cab, so Little could only ride with Pa in it as long as they were tooling around through the pasture, not out on the road.  But the car seat has been officially moved to the truck, and despite the not-so-hot gas mileage, it appears to be the new family favorite.  My Santa Fe has definitely become my sole scoot-about for grocery runs and independent errands.  Pa can drive the new truck without anything like as much pain, and when he gets back from a trip, he doesn’t have the lingering nerve pain and flare-ups that he had kinked up in the Tacoma.  I honestly haven’t seen him use his cane since we got the new truck. 

     Also, we have at least two ghosts. 

     The first summer we spent in the house, Pa and I would hear what sounded like murmured conversation in the kitchen/dining room area late at night.  It was like two folks having a muted conversation over a late night cup of coffee after the kids have been put to bed. 

     Little said "Hello, girl behind the blinds!" back in October. Shortly after, we went to GA for a week or so around Thanksgiving, and when we got back to TX, Little got sick with a bad cough and nocturnal fevers. Nothing else seemed to be working, so I smudged the house with sage. Little got better, and I didn't think any more of it.  We didn’t have any more paranormal occurrences for months. 

     Now, a few days ago, Pa sees the girl in the pasture. Shortly after Little went to sleep that night, I get in the shower. While I'm in the shower, I hear Little's bed creaking and hear a high pitched voice talking. I assume it's Little and my shower woke him up. When I get out of the shower, I hear Little's ball pit balls rolling around and the high pitched voice, "Hi, what are you doing?" That's something Druid says to me all the time. "Hi, what are you doing, mama?" So I go in, thinking to steal some more kisses and tell him to go to sleep. Only he is asleep. He's snoring. He's three. He hasn't learned to fake sleep when I come to check on him, yet.

     So I go into our bedroom and ask Pa if he heard it or if he had been talking. He said he had been cussing under his breath at whatever is out in the shop rattling around. That's not what I heard.  I heard a little kid voice.  I also heard a young kid (older than Druid) say “Mom?” once when I was heading to the bathroom.  Little still calls me mama, not mom.  Very, very, rarely he might say mommy or mother, but it’s always in reference to a story or movie where that’s what they call the mom.
     Little was in the living room after lunch today and he suddenly yells, "Where is the boy, mama?! Where is that boy?"

     So Pa and I say, "What boy?"

     Little says, "That boy in that black wagon, mama! Bring back the boy?! Where is the boy?!!" He's crying like his best friend just went away.

     So I ask Pa about the black wagon. It's normally in the shed or the shop, but Bryan left it outside under the living room window yesterday after he got through mending one of the fences. We asked Little what the boy looked like, what color was his hair, skin, was he big or little, that kind of thing. Little said it was a little boy with "my gray hair," so I guess a blonde little boy was out in the wagon under the window, but now he's gone, and Little is very upset that he won't come back to play.

     I betcha I know what Pa is going to be doing next week while it's supposed to be raining all week. Maybe the library or the county clerk will be able to start us in the right direction to figure out some of our house’s history.  In my head, the late 30s don’t seem to be that long ago.  I guess because my Gramma never seemed old until she passed away, and those would’ve been her teenaged years.  But it’s an 80-year span.  Maybe something interesting happened here, or maybe there are just a couple of lost little kids who want someone to play with and miss their mama.  

     And here's a gratuitous picture of something recent that makes me even happier than a new truck and a vicarious promotion.  I love these two guys bigger than big!