Home Is Where The Hurt Is
Though it goes against everything in which I believe, I increasingly find myself considering the possibility that my house might be haunted.
I don’t actually believe in ghosts, or spirits, or anything supernatural. (That being said, I really ought to rename my blog, but that is another discussion entirely.) However, I am concerned by the continual “house settling” noises lately.
It could be termites, and the house is not settling so much as slowly collapsing. It could be climate change causing more rapid temperature fluctuations. Or both.
I recall that once, in my foolish youth, I went from room to room casting out demons “in the name of Jesus.” Again, this seems utterly absurd to me now, yet I can not help but wonder what exactly caused me think that would even be necessary at the time.
Supernatural or not, there is a darkness to this house. Literally, as the windows are situated such that there is very little natural light, but figuratively as well.
I am not saying that walls actually have memory, but I have lived here for a long time. I started my blog in this house all those years ago. I have been here through so much death, and loss, and failure. So many bad memories, and so very few good ones.
Sometimes when going to the mailbox, I can not help but reflect on the literally thousands of times that I have made that same walk, and I relive so many different things that weighed on my mind during various phases of life. And it hurts so much.
I have tried to leave several times, yet for one reason or another, it never works out. It was always meant to be temporary, and I have never really felt comfortable here. Yet, staying is just so cripplingly convenient. Like the house won’t let me go.