Ghosts

Ghosts, yes, I talk to them all the time, and yes, they talk back. Where do they live? Deep inside of me, their homes were etched over decades, and both the content of their character and the nuance of their voices have filled their cavernous homes to the brim, and so conversation is quite easy.

Come to think of it, their number far exceeds those still earthbound, so if not them, who would I have to talk to. When I write of them, people say, oh, I missed them too, I’m so sad, I’m sad for you. It breaks my heart to hear them say this. Don’t they know that if they just look deeply into their heart, they could find the joy that I have found by having conversations with those I cherished, those who grew up with me, and those who shared a lifetime. They are missing this precious opportunity, and instead they long, they grasp at something gone, while I am present with their memory.

I want to shout at them. Don’t be sad, I want to say, be joyful, the way I am joyful. Reach into your heart the way I reach into mine, and find them there, still laughing, still dancing, still speaking. They have not left you. They love you still, as I do.