Once I upon a time I wrapped up 30-days-of-praying-for-Eric’s-happiness and rolled into another 30 days. The side effect of praying for his happiness is that he is happier. More confident. And feels loved extravagantly. That has resulted in a lot of closeness between us.
Uh oh. You know what that means.
So anyway, we were in Jacksonville for our very hard two weeks of helping his mother transition to a memory care facility and staying in her empty house. There are two bedrooms in that house in which multiple people have reported multiple male ghost encounters. Unpleasant ones. My husband is one of them. Separately, and before they had told each other about it, our oldest son had an encounter. As a result, we try never to sleep in those bedrooms.
We’ve never had an issue in the bedroom we stayed in this trip, and I thought of it as our sanctuary while we were there, because, frankly, the house scares me.
One night while we were . . . enthusiastically close . . . I saw a shadow in the hall outside the sanctuary bedroom. Because the bedroom is “safe,” I waited to tell Eric. We both blew it off and went to sleep, although we agreed it was the ghost. A few hours later, his phone started playing “Story of a Girl,” a 2000 song by Nine Days. At full volume, which I barely heard because I have these amazing anti-Eric-snoring earplugs that have preserved my romantical feelings about him. Anyway, it was a fire drill as we tried to figure out how to turn it off, because he doesn’t have that song on his iPhone. We checked and no apps were open, so it wasn’t playing from a Facebook video or anything. Finally, we just swiped up and saw it was the current track playing in his shortcuts, and I turned it off. And it disappeared and wasn’t on his phone anymore. Not then, not now.
So Eric thinks the ghost is fond of me and was sending a message . . . and paying us back for disturbing him.