OUR GHOST

I don't believe in ghosts. 

At least, up until last week I didn't.

For years, Terry has maintained that our house is haunted by some type of spirit. When we first moved in thirty years ago, we had the house blessed, so strong were my Xena's suspicions.

I watched from the sidelines whenever she would point out the appearance of an alien juice bottle in the fridge or a spent wooden match on the staircase. 

"I swear someone uses our house when we're away," she often insists after we return from a extended junket. A missing bath towel and a frying pan in the wrong cupboard have been recent happenings.

I usually shrug at her remarks in a laissez faire sort of way. And besides, I muse, why would a ghost need a frying pan anyways? 

However, the happenings of last week are hard to shrug off.

We had been away for two days with my daughter Carolyn and her family. All seemed normal upon our return until we walked upstairs to the bedroom level of the house.

"What's that smell?" I wondered aloud.

Terry, an amateur detective in a past life, responded decisively, "That's cigarette smoke. It seems to be coming from the two front bedrooms."

Indeed the smell of stale cigarettes hung in the air. As I opened some windows, Mrs. Columbo tried to zero in on the source of the smell.

"Smell that," she said holding up a nightgown ."And here, the smell is on these pillow slips too."

I was a bit dumbfounded.

A few days later, despite our use of air fresheners and deodorizers,  the off-putting  smell lingered on.

"Do you think it might be your mom?" I teased.

"Maybe but my mom's signature smell was Chanel Number 5, remember? Besides, mom never smoked much."

"Well it's not mine, that's for sure," I replied, thinking of my mother who never veered outside the lines.

Our in-house mystery went unsolved for three days and then, magically, the smell disappeared.

Thank goodness!

Whoever or whatever it is, our ghost does seem to be of the friendly variety. 

In fact, our Casper is most welcome anytime as long it smokes in the backyard and leaves my laptop alone.