ghosts and fire

it's curious that i begin a story of ghosts with memories of the joy of life. 

...

and the truth is i don't really really believe in ghosts.  i imagine they are just products of my particular needs or thoughts at a given time in life.

i've had experiences with benevolent ghosts.  the crescent street story is not one of those.

there was the ghost of an older man with wavy white hair who hung out at the bottom of a set of stairs in an apartment outside of boston.  at one time the stairs led up to the attic but the door at the top had been closed off and they ended up leading nowhere.  he wasn't scary or needy, he was just there.  

there was the time my grandma alice came to visit my newborn daughter she never got the chance to meet in life.  but those are other stories from other times.

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imagine you are walking in the side door on crescent street.  you'd be in a porch of sorts with dark paneling on the walls.  the widows have cranks to open them.  it feels campy.  there's an old beat up sofa and a dresser.  the wood floors are scuffed.  to the right is a door which leads to the garage.  above the garage is a secret room.  the door to this room is locked.  i will tell you the secret of this room soon but not just yet.

walk through the door to the left and you're in the kitchen.  it's brighter here.  there's old linoleum on the floor and that great old sink in the corner.  there's a window over the sink to a porch and the small backyard.  

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my friend jason lived in an adjacent house.   for awhile he had a thing for vampires.  on sleepovers when we were small he'd insist that the lights stay on overnight and he hung garlic from each window.  i kid you not.  

you could barely see jason's family's house from my backyard past some trees and around the corner.  but the night his barn was on fire we watched from the kitchen window.  then we moved to the porch and could hear the rush of fire noise and smell the burning.  we walked to the edge of my yard and watched flames engulf the building and sparks fly up into the dark.
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segue to some new handprint cushions in my shop:

here

more story tomorrow.

unless you're bored and i can just stop...