On this special night let me show you the front porch and tell you a ghost story. A true ghost story.
The first night we spent in our little cabin in the woods was a chilly May night over 20 years ago when Jon was 12, K was 10 and C was four weeks old. The cabin was alone and lonely since the owner had died and his widow hated it there in the woods.
We were so excited to spend time at our little five acres of paradise away from the city and, complete with a couple friends and our very big and smelly malamute, moved in for a long weekend.
We made a fire in the old wood burning stove and eventually we all went to sleep.
In the middle of the night I woke up because I thought the baby wasn’t breathing properly…you know, that mom feeling…and sat up into choking smoke in the sleeping loft.
A fibreglass board, which apparently had been used to hold the wood supply close to the woodstove for years and years had caught fire and was smoldering away.
I got the children up and got everyone out of the cabin and put the fire out. (Thank goodness we had the forethought to bring up a small fire extinguisher along with the mosquito repellant.)
Then I looked around the cabin and felt a chill. The cabin came to us complete with all the decoration inside. I saw the bearskin on the wall, the framed land claims, the old hiking boots by the fire and I realised I hadn’t even said thank you to the late owner.
So I quietly said, “Jimmy, this cabin will be filled with love and children’s laughter from now on. Don’t worry, we will love it and take care of it for you, and you can always be here with us if you want.”
Twenty years have passed since that night. The foundations have been rebuilt, the roof has been replaced, the rickety old fireplace has been swapped over for a lovely new one, but Jimmy’s claims are still on the wall. That way he can always be a part of the cabin and the cabin is a place of peace.
I think it really helps to talk to ghosts. What do you think?