It was a bitter cold night,
and I pulled the quilt up around my neck around my neck. The voices of my
parents comforted me as I drifted off to sleep. The aroma of coffee wafted into
my bedroom, and awakened me. I was comforted by the sound of their voices they
spoke in hush tones about the winter storm.
A chill went down my spine
despite being wrapped in my quilt, and pajamas equipped with feet covering. My
eyes were closed, and temperature seemed to drop in the room I could feel the
warmth of the quilt being tucked in around me. I was startled that I could hear
the voices of my parents in the kitchen. I could see that my brothers sound
asleep in their beds.
I gave a cautious glance over
my left shoulder, and sitting in the bedroom chair was an old woman. She was
dressed in what appeared to be early 20th century clothing. She was just
watching over us three boys as we slept. When I turned to call for my mother,
she vanished.
We always referred to this
home as the “farm house.” It was a small
place that we raised several head of cattle. It was built in the late 1800’s,
and the feel of the mysterious enveloped the home.
After I told my youngest
brother Gerry, we decided to go into the attic to see what we could find. We
found a treasure trove of old late 19th century shoes, and bits of
clothing. It would be Gerry that was the first to notice a temperature drop one
summer in the room just off the loft. It was unusually cool; the loft itself
was getting stuffy in the under the midday sun.
In the early morning hours
one fall morning, dad heard a knock on the door. He checked his alarm clock,
and started swearing that his brother-in-law had stopped by nearly an hour
earlier than usual for coffee. He slipped on a t-shirt, and pants. When he went
to the door, there was nobody at the door. Puzzled, he thought he had just been
dreaming, but when he turned around he saw the old woman ascending the
staircase into the loft.
I only saw apparition twice,
but I felt her often in my presence. In the summer, we would sleep in the loft.
During a bad thunderstorm, I saw her looking over us in the flashes of
lightning. I was comforted by her presence that we were going to be fine
despite the violent thunderstorm. I would look for her during the flashes of
lightning again, but never saw her again. Her presence always felt in the loft
more than anywhere in the house. We would have running conversations about who
was she? Why did her presence stay in the home? All unanswered questions to
this day.
Through the years, I would think
about her as I passed the old decaying house, wondering if she still dwelt at
the old place. Then one day, the house was finally torn down. I wonder if her
presence is still on the property. I think of her comforting presence always
when I drive by.
Joe Glasgow is
a former senior staff writer at Fanstop.com, and is the author of the book Play
Ball! Growing Up With Baseball https://amzn.to/2o4M62h
