My Spirits in the Attic

         The movers come on Tuesday and my spirits were still in the attic. The pale blue tinge on the orpazium ring indicated their contempt. They did not approve. What was I to do? Hunger strike? Who would believe a mother of three naughty puppies (boys), however eccentric she looked or behaved or her bizarre child rearing sense, that there were spirits residing in the attic?  And that they disagreed to move out with us. We lived in a normal neighborhood of Navajo Drive in Ashburn, Virginia. The only characteristic that could associate this neighborhood to the  “alternate world” was the Fall similar to the Blair Witch Project movie location. That was the only creepy feature surrounding the house each Fall. The boys were happy about it, for their favorite Halloween costume would be to play out the characters of the infamous movie. And that was just a movie. I had real spirits attached to me, living in my attic to ensure the closest proximity without disrupting the normalcy in my life. Of course, several unexplained phenomena added to the bewilderment  of my family of all males, who lacked the intellectual to comprehend the spiritual world. If I had girls, I could explain, (the spirits often complained) but the boys, they would feign disbelief and accuse me of scaring them so I left many queer occurrences unexplained...

         For instance, there was a time when the wind was blowing towards our home while we sat on our porch enjoying ice creams. We anticipated a breeze hit from our front because the trees titled a little towards us. Instead, a gale blew my husband’s paper onto the front yard and whisked my youngest one's paper airplane towards the trees. The guys felt it. They had this look of abruptness and change in pattern of thought expression on their faces. I joined them, exasperated at yet another naughty trick of the friendly spirits.

They were not always naughty. When furious, they would tinker with the wind chime ALL day long, till I would unhook it for a few days. A little attention in the form of midnight chant and an offering to their Master (petals of the flowers of the season, in case you were wondering) would mellow them. They loved me. They had been in my life for as long as I remember. Watching out for me and my family. Passed on to me through generations.  The rituals were all they needed. And in it's stead, they would fight with any other celestial or earthly spirit that would try to harm my family.

         My middle son, 13 at one time, was kicked in the gut by a group of bullies in school. He lay in the soccer feild writing in pain, consequently missing his bus. The spirits grew restless and the orpazium in my ring turned green. I listened to my inner voice and it told me to go to school. My son suffered from internal bleeding, but a timely trip to the emergency department handled the worst of our fears. Of course, his drastic healing process was no miracle, but a work of my spirits. The orpazium was warm orange, like the fallen autumn leaves, a sign of bliss from the spirits.

         They preferred one place. We had lived in this home for the last 15 years. We had to move  closer to my son’s college, and also to a bigger home. The movers come on Tuesday. By Friday I intended to empty the attic. No amount of lamenting would convince them. Lately, they would throw an occasional dish on the floor (plastic, in case you were wondering) to let me know their mood. Pale blue on the orpazium. Not a good sign. I promised I would move the plants with us. The begonias and the annual daisies. The blue merged into lavender hues, indicating a certain dip in the displeasure. I mentally promised them a newer better attic with a better collection of antiques (my spirits loved antiques because they could talk to them about the events they saw in ancient times, in case you were wondering) to spend their time better. I so wanted the orpazium to acquire soft golden tones. An idea struck my mind.

         The midnight of the last Friday before the movers came, I performed the final ritual with white rose petals. I prayed that by next winter, I would have a baby girl who would look after my spirits in our new home. Fragrance and serenity filled the attic. I felt an unbelievable sense of euphoria. The orpazium glowed in the faintest hues of orange and gold. My prayer was relayed and I knew it would be answered. The spirits were with me. They rode the orpazium all the way to New Jersey, in high hopes to continue the family legacy.





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