Sleepy time

            It is 1974. I am pondering my purpose in life. I am thirsty.
          I go the kitchen for some lemonade. Dad is reading the
          paper and eating bread sticks. I am aprehesive to ask my
          dad anything. He was always overwhelming.
            "Dad. I think I want to be a psychologist." I said stuttering.
          "That's a vague profession. Why not be a teacher?" Dad was
          a teacher. "O.K. I guess that's similar. Teaching young people
          to better themselves." I smiled. Dad looked over his glasses at
          me, "Do you still believe the house is haunted?"
            "Wellll, you did say it was built on a Witches' hill." I was looking
          for an exit. "Yes. Witches were hanged behind the house. But,
          that was a long time ago. And I had the house blessed by Fr. Bob.
          He even said a Mass here. Any demonic force cannot enter
          consecrated ground." Dad's voice was low and very slow.
            I was being toyed with; "I.. had a dream about Witches hanging
          outside my window. I think they were trying to kick the window
          in." Dad scratched his right ear loab, "Well, I didn't have the yard
          blessed. I have some Holy Water in my top dresser draw. Bless
          the windows and outside the windows. That should put things right."
            "Do you really believe all of this?" my eyes widened. Dad looked
          at me sternly, "We are Catholic." I sighed and sipped some lemonade.
          "I hope that the demonic Witches in our yard, believe in Holy Water."
          I made a hasty exit and blessed my windows, openned them and
          blessed the night outside.


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