bravery? not one of my stronger suits

Tonight, Charlie and I were discussing what it's like to live in a house where someone has recently died. And while the man that passed away was in his 90's and had been ill for several years, it's still a rather sobering thought that someone took their last breath in THIS house. Their soul left their body in THIS house. The last thing that they saw was probably the ceiling or a window or a door or ... who knows what.

But it was in THIS house.

Recall, it was Charlie, who before we even knew for sure, had a feeling that someone had died here. My husband could totally sense that there was "something" about this place. Call it a spirit, call it an energy, call it what you will. But for the past week, ever since I read that piece about Stephen Hawking's most recent theory about God not being present in the creation of the Universe, I've been interested / possibly hopeful to see if something supernatural would happen once we moved in.

Keep in mind, I've heard nothing but good things about the man that lived here. A man that I will forever more refer to as Mr. S. Because I think it's important that he has an identity.

Mr. S was a kind, gentle person that would happily welcome people in to his home and would dole out huge bear hugs. I can imagine he's the kind of guy I'd really like... and I'm optimistic he'd really like us, too.

That being said...

Tonight, as we were discussing any fears that we have about living in this space, Charlie said, "Whenever I go in to a room, particularly in the dark, I'll turn on the light, look around and say, 'Hey. What's up, Mr. S?' Although, I must admit, whenever I go downstairs in to the basement at night, I won't look outside the door because I'm fully expecting to see that there will be the face of an old man, standing at the window and he'll fade back, out of sight. That's why I'm very anxious to paint and take down wall paper and make this house OURS as soon as possible."

While it would be nice, in a way, to experience a spirit who has gone on to the after life, just as a reassurance that there IS indeed something beyond us ... I feel the same way about making this home ours, as soon as possible. Right now, even though we have all of our furniture moved in, the 50-year old wall paper and paneling and orange shag carpet very much makes it feel like we're in someone else's space.

And unlike Charlie who is boldly facing his fears, I feel like I'm on the verge of letting out a blood curdling scream at any moment. I'm not uncomfortably afraid, I'm just very jittery. So if a squirrel drops an acorn down the chimney, the water heater kicks on, or the house creaks the way houses creak - I'm totally alert, ready to grab the children and run like my pants are on fire.

Last night, an hour or so after Charlie went to sleep, I crawled in to bed. And just as I was starting to doze off, I absolutely positively could have sworn that I'd heard heavy, slow footsteps coming down our hallway.

Thump.


Thump.


Thump.


Thump.

The burst of adrenaline was so great, my throat nearly exploded. I flung the covers back and was actually standing above Charlie, shaking him awake, when I realized the sound I'd heard was my heart beating and the "footsteps" were coming faster.

THUMPTHUMPTHUMPTHUMPTHUMPTHUMPTHUMP

Yes. I know.

I'm such a chicken.