DadadaDA!! I
finished my painting. Woo hoo! Yay!
A painting I realize has very little to do with "spooky" --
then I remembered painting The Ghost of Dibble Hollow, so I'm clearly
completely legit about following the word for the week :)
There's a lot I could say about this painting, but I'm
curious about what you think of it without anymore explanation than I've
already given. I've even got another
painting or 2 in mind that will follow
similar themes. Hopefully they won't
take years to complete!
As for "spooky", when we were kids, Sis2 and her
friends played "Who's Afraid of Bloody Mary?" They took turns locking each other in a
closet and scaring themselves silly. I
got shoved into the closet for a turn too.
I reluctantly said the words 3x and felt torn between terror and healthy
skepticism.
The other girls wouldn't let me out. As the youngest, they thought they could get
me to scream the loudest, and they kept me incarcerated for a very long
time. I amused myself by examining the
contents of the closet by candlelight.
By the time I was allowed out, I'd lost most of my fear and come to the
decision that the girls weren't really playing, they were just cruel.
The girls thought I lacked the proper attitude for
play. Maybe? My 5-year-old self felt pretty sure about my conclusions
though. I told a school friend about
the torture test and she agreed with me.
We polled our other playmates and everyone agreed, with an observation
that most older siblings are mean. We
were sensitive middle children.
This experience oddly turned into a life-long interest in
collecting other people's ghost stories -- not fake stories intended to
frighten, but real stories. It started
that day on the playground when 2 of my classmates shared their experiences. We were all awed and wondered together about
the nature of reality and the afterlife.
I remain charmed by the unknown and magic in life.
My grandma died suddenly when I was in my 20s. I still hadn't gotten my mind wrapped around
this new reality on the day of the funeral.
My unusually well-dressed family picked up Grandpa at his house and
loaded up the car. Mom sent me back in
to make sure the back door was locked.
It was. With my mind on getting
to the funeral home, I went through the kitchen, dining room...
"Linda.", Grandma said from the kitchen.
I turned around expecting to see her. Empty air in the arch between the 2
rooms. Uh?
"Grandma?"
Silence.
I didn't want to move.
Didn't want to break whatever just happened. Mom tooted the horn, and I got in the car for a funeral I didn't
want to attend.
For an extra oddity, Mom told me the same thing happened to
Grandma when her grandma died. She was
playing piano and she heard "Laura."
That's it, nothing more. I'm
grateful Grandma said goodbye.
As for last week's rambling about giving kids candy on
Halloween, Paula at Mindful Drawing shared a practice in Ireland of giving stickers out. I think that's a great idea :)
