Whitewash The Cupboards For Ghosts
Whitewash The Cupboards For Ghosts
Sometime back in late summer...
I was sitting in the living room having coffee with my mom and my two older sisters. Well, one sister had her nose in Facebook and was fiddling about with her zoo but she was having coffee as well. We were discussing the birds and life and how Brent Farge screwed us over for something he called "just a game". And I brought up some house improvements we were doing.
"We just painted all our brown cupboards white", I innocently said as I hunted in my "pictures" folder on the computer to show my mother how nice the kitchen looked just by painting those crappy brown cupboards white and adding some new knobs.
"I don't ever want to see me cupboards white!", said my mom emphatically.
"Elaine", said Toni who helps cook and clean and care for my mother along with the rest of us since my mom became confined to home and under the care of In-Home hospice last October, "your kitchen could use some updating. I think painting those brown cupboards white would really help the look in there."
"I don't want my cupboards painted white!!! Good Lord!?!", said my mom with a tinge of added drama. "Not while I'm alive. Nor after either! I swear if you paint those things white I will haunt you all! Haunt you all!!!"
I thought about that for awhile. How bad would that be? After mom was gone we would miss her. I wouldn't mind knowing she had a ghost to haunt with. It would be heartwarming in a way.
So I said, "How would that work exactly mom? The haunting, I mean. What would you do?"
She didn't seem to have an answer ready for that.
"Would you make an appearance?", I asked. "Would you throw glasses? Write something on the window pane? Would you go all Amityville on us? I mean, really - what do you plan on doing exactly?"
My mom smiled knowing I was being ridiculous. I think my wife went downstairs. Peggy looked confused and walked over to check on her boiling kettle of water. Pam was upgrading her snake into an exotic serpent or something.
"Well", my mom said, "I don't know about that but you'd just better not do it. I will haunt you. It is that simple. We don't need to go changing everything. Keep them brown."
"Well", I said, "I don't know. I'm thinking that a visit afterwards isn't such a bad thing. When you are gone I can't promise I won't paint them white just to get you over here again. You could make the walls bleed or knock down a bottle and we could feel good - mom's here."
I probably gave her a hard time about it for awhile longer. Her and I would kid around like that. Sometimes it didn't seem like anyone else noticed how quick her wit was still. Or maybe the others didn't just like to play with her like that. To poke and prod about her many OCDs. Maybe I did that as a passive aggressive payback to needing to prod her along so many days after my father passed. I miss that play. My mom has not been gone but maybe 40 days and I already feel the need to whitewash her kitchen cupboards.
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