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littleleafreadsandwrites · 7 months ago

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"Home Spirit Home" by littleleafreadsandwrites

“Till death do us part but death does not separate the body from it’s spirit,” Aunt Esme would tell me as a child when I would become gloomy about the chickens she would have to slaughter for dinner. “We always thank them for their company and presence as this chicken understands the purpose it will serve.”

“But I don’t want to eat it,” I would cry, watching her pluck the feathers from its flesh. White and brown feathers were scattered on the ground in the yard outside of the shed where Esme would keep her equipment.

“Now child,” she would whispfully say. “You will one day soon understand when you grow with your age.”

I understand now. I sat in a chair, hunched over the side of a bed, holding the hand with the body of what was once Aunt Esme. She laid there peacefully in what looked like to be the deepest sleep known, which it was indeed. Tears streamed down my cheek as I caressed her hand with my thumb, thinking of all of the memories I shared with her.

The room was silent, too silent. I could hear the nurses' shoes clipping and clacking on the tile floors in the hallways outside as I tried to control my composure in this bleak gray room. A subtle knock was at the door but I never turned to direct my attention to the door.

“The doctors are going to take her away in a few minutes,” said my mother’s voice behind me. She walked to the foot of the bed and placed her hand on the frame. “She was gone too soon.”

She was. She is. She is gone.

Her black curly hair rested upon the white pillows that she was laying on. Her skin was losing color but it still did not mask the fact that she had been kissed by the sun. Her eyes were a blank canvas waiting to be painted with the bright, sky blue shimmery eyeshadow that she wore every day. Her hand still holding mine, lacked the glistening silver rings that crowded her fingers. The joy, the laughter, the love, the happiness, it was all gone.

“I never thought I would be here, seeing her, for my last and final time,” I wobbly said through my tears. I rested her hand back onto the bed. My mother walked behind me and placed her hand on my shoulder.

“She will always be remembered,” she reassured me.

A few, long, dreary days passed as my mother and I made the arrangements for the funeral. My mother, Claire, spent her time making tedious phone calls to family and friends about the passing of Aunt Esme. I, on the other hand, spent my time at the funeral home making sure that everything was up to par.

“Esme sure was a spirit,” said an older man who was too plump for his own good. He was wheeling in a cart full of light pink candles and lilies that would be on display. Esme would have been distraught over the flowers as they were ‘picked for the looks and not for the love.’ The parlor room cried in sadness as the walls were bleak from all of the deaths they had to witness. Aunt Esme would be presented at the back of the room where visitors could see her.

“She sure was,” I replied, checking off my task list. The old man pursed his lips and lowered his head, reminiscing and grieving about the loss. I could feel my throat becoming tighter and my face becoming flushed. I exited the room to find Loraine, the lawyer. Loarine had been working on deciphering Esme’s will as she had no children or husband to leave anything behind.

Down the hall of the home was a small office where Loraine was working. I subtly knocked on the frame of the door to announce my presence. She nodded her head to welcome me in. Her reading glasses sat on the tip of her skinny nose as she peered over them at me.

“We have some business to discuss,” she replied, setting the will down and removing her glasses. “Your mother will be here shortly.”

Business as usual but this was no business that should have happened this soon. It felt just like yesterday I was going to her house and watching her bead a new top in her living room. She would tell more stories and adventures about how she packed her belongings in a single suitcase and traveled the whole world.

“Why,” she said, stringing a bead onto the thread. “I lived out of my suitcase because what more could I possibly need?”

“But Esme,” I would challenge, “What about all of the trinkets and toys you would bring back?”

She gave the gentle smile she always did before she enlightened me with more stories. “I have my ways.”

A few minutes passed and it felt like it was raining in the office. Except, it was me who was creating the rainy atmosphere. I came back to reality and wiped my face of the tears that I had shed thinking about Esme. My mother entered the room, wiping her hands on her dress as she took a seat beside me in front of Loraine’s desk.

“Ladies,” she said, flipping the will over towards us. “There are only two things that have been left behind for you.”

I looked up at my mother who was looking intently at the piece of paper that had Esme’s handwriting on it.

“Well,” my mother hesitantly expressed, “what is it?”

“She has only left her money and home to Aurora.”

The world stopped. I quickly flashed my attention to the will on the table. My mother relaxed in disbelief after hearing the news. I quickly snatched the paper off the desk and skimmed my eyes over Esme’s curvy handwriting. ‘All of my estate and wealth will go to Aurora,’ I read. My heart was jumping out of my chest. This couldn’t be. My mother was supposed to get everything. Esme was her sister after all–

“Under one condition,” Loraine interrupted my train of thought. I looked over the paper back at her. What condition? My mother was back on the edge of her seat again, her posture waiting for more news. “You have to live in the house, Aurora.”

“This can’t be,” I exclaimed, looking back down at the will. “She shouldn’t have given anything to me. This should all have gone to my mother.”

“A will is a will,” said Loriane. “I cannot change what has been written down as it is practically laws and gifts to and from the dead.”

I quickly read the paper again from the start. “All of my estate and wealth will go to Aurora. ToAurora, when you read this, do not be alarmed or upset with this choice as it is mine. To Claire, do not hold any grudge against your daughter as she was one of my own. With my wealth, I have accumulated $500,000 which will be granted to Aurora. With great wealth comes some type of responsibility. Aurora, my estate is yours in which you have to live till your passing. My home is special, spiritual some may say, but I know with your care, tender love, and kindness, my home will grant you the life you deserve.”

“I suggest that you follow her will, Aurora. We see time and time again those who have been given money, estate, or personal belongings with special requests that do not follow them,” Loraine gently reminded me. She folded her hands on the desk and directed her attention to my mother who seemed to be grieving more than just the loss of her sister. Mother, slumped into the cushion chair, was fiddling her fingers in her lap. “Claire, I suggest the same for you as well. What’s done is done.”

“But Loraine,” my mother leaned forward. “She couldn’t just give away her home like that. It’s a hundred years old and is not in proper upkeep to be lived in.”

“Then, take the money and make it a home,” Loraine suggested. She backed her chair up and gathered her belongings scattered on the desk. “I think it is my time to part. I am sorry for your loss, Claire. Esme was loved by all.”

My mind was running faster than a racing horse who had the highest bets placed on them. I watched Loraine wish my mother well and exit the room. My mother excused herself and followed behind Loraine. Knowing that this is what Aunt Esme wanted, I knew I needed to fulfill her will.

~~~

Spring blossomed into summer and Esme’s home remained empty until I had collected her share of wealth she had left me. I spent the following week packing, cleaning, and donating all of my belongings into a trunk that fit into the back of my mothers automobile. Up the mountain, I went to live in my new home.

Aunt Esme always loved the drive up the mountain when she would come pick me up for a weekend trip. She would talk about how the farmer who lived a few miles up would sell blueberries at his stand where his son would watch it, day in and day out. She laughed and thought the boy playing watchguard was silly as no man would dare to steal from the farmer. The passing town was small enough to know who the thief would be. When I rode by the old stand to see his son, he was a bit older now with a woman who he held his arm tightly around like his most prized possession. I chuckled to myself, thinking about how Esme would be proud of that boy to find himself a nice girl.

Upon arriving at Esme’s house, mother parked the car in the overgrown gravel drive that led up to the two story house. We both looked at the home and mother sighed.

“It is going to be odd knowing that Esme doesn’t live here anymore,” she said, fixing her white lacy gloves on her hands. “I know she appreciates you doing this.”

“I don’t want to hear her in heaven complaining about how they tore her house down to build a new shopping center,” I joked. Mother chuckled to herself.

We both got out of the car and hauled my belongings to the front porch of the house. Esme’s house was old but sturdy. The sky blue paint had been peeling off the siding and one of the steps leading up to the porch broke under me as I was climbing the wooden steps. Wildflowers and weeds blossomed in the flowerbeds and hanging baskets enjoying their new homes they invaded. The windows were coated with dust and cobwebs were neatly strung under the porch. Her home was still the same as I could always remember.

“I think that is all,” my mother said, placing the last box down on the porch. “I guess it is my time to head back down the mountain.”

“Indeed it is,” I said, bringing her into a hug. “I will see you next weekend?”

“Yes, I’ll be back with your car.”

“I love you,” I reminded her.

“I love you too.”

I watched mother back out of the drive into the road until she was swallowed by the trees in the bend of the road. I turned to the front door and searched for the key in my purse. The home was old and so was the key. I found the black skeleton key and inserted it into the brown wooden door that cried a screeching creak when it opened. Inside, the home was dark, cold and lifeless. A bubble of tears started to build up in my eyes but I pushed the feeling down. I walked inside to be greeted with a home that was clean and unbothered. To the left was the kitchen and to the right, the living room and directly in front of me was the staircase that I would run up and down as a kid. I started to move my belongings in, one box at a time, to officially move into my new home that was once Esme’s.

A couple of hours had passed and the sun was starting to set, I had unpacked my essential belongings into Esme’s old bedroom. Her queen sized bed seemed small in her enormous room. Floral wallpaper lined the walls along with different sized lanterns and candles scattered in the room. As old as this home is, it still had running water and electricity. I walked to the closet where Esme kept all of her flashy clothes. As a child, she always dressed up in colorful, complex pattern clothing compared to the others plain, simplistic style.

“You always want to stand out because blending in is how you lose yourself,” she would remind me. Of course, I looked up to Esme in such a way that I wore a bright yellow dress with royal purple stockings to school. Girls in my class would laugh, point, joke and even throw scrunched up paper at me with hateful notes. I cried to Esme about the girls in my class and she simply told me, “Your spirit is free unlike theirs.”

I opened the dark oak door and was greeted with a closet packed neatly with clothes making the walls almost impossible to see. I skimmed through the clothes debating what I should do with them. I had to make space for my own. I quickly started to sort through them, throwing the ones I didn't want into a pile behind me and keeping the ones I wanted on the rack. Colors of cloth flew to the left and right of me as I kept tossing. After a few minutes, I turned around to look at the damage I had created.

There was nothing. The pile of clothes had disappeared.

“That cannot be right,” I quickly said to myself, walking to the place where the pile should have been. I searched around in the closet looking for the pile. “Someone couldn't have worn them and walked away.”

I turned back to the rack of clothes but only to find some hangers hanging with some of the clothes on them. I stared at the hangers that were swinging back and forth as if someone or something had rushed to hang them up. I closed my eyes and shook my head.

“Maybe some rest will do me good,” I said, walking out of the closet, losing the door behind me. “I think this could be a part of the grieving process.”

~~~

Daylight leaked in through the curtains the next morning waking me. The sound of the rooster crowing reminded me of all of the animals that Aunt Esme had been taking care of. The farmer from down the mountain had been watching them for Esme while she was gone. Is gone. I gathered myself and headed downstairs to the kitchen. The kitchen was the smallest room in the large house. A white stove and refrigerator were hugged by the sea blue and sage green tiled countertops. Pots and vases lined the window sill with different flowers and plants that Esme had placed there. Many meals were served and shared here and many more to come since this is my new home now.

Esme’s old coffee percolator was sitting on the stove where it had always sat for as long as I could remember.

“Coffee,” I hummed to myself. “That’s what I need. Today’s going to be a long day.”

I opened the lid to the percolator to spot a little creature who was asleep in the corner of the pot, a frog.

“How'd you get in here little buddy?” I asked the frog, reaching down to pick him up.

“I hopped right in here,” a voice said.

I quickly looked behind me in the kitchen, scanning to see who else was here. Nothing. The empty, still kitchen stared back at me.

“Who’s there?” I asked more frantically. “Show yourself.”

“I'm right in front of you,” the unknown voice claimed.

I zipped my head to look outside of the window to see if someone was on the porch. Nobody. I set down the percolator and grabbed the nearest item to me that could be used as a potential weapon, a frying pan. I opened the back door that led to the wrap around porch and stepped outside. I looked to the left, nothing. I looked to the right, nobody. I lowered the pan to my side and relaxed. This has to be a figment of my imagination. I walked back into the house and locked the door behind me. I set the pan back on the stove and drew my attention back to the percolator. I picked up the tiny lime green frog from the percolator and set him on the stove, praying he wouldn't hop off before I could take him outside. I walked to the sink to wash out the percolator.

“So you're the new squatter, I see,” the voice said again. I looked behind me and down at the frog, realizing the potential source of the mysterious voice.

“Did you just talk?” I asked the little frog. The frog moved itself to face the direction of me and slowly blinked one eye at a time.

“A ribbit or croak, I do speak,” the frog said back.

“This can't be,” I denied, walking towards the stove top. “I haven't talked to an animal since I was a child.”

“Childlike qualities never leave.”

“But–,” I stopped. “You're a frog?”

“I think that's what I am,” the frog said, but this time, the frog was starting to stand on its back legs. I took a step back, taken away by the moment. “But you see, some things are never as they seem. My name is Robert.”

My mind was running through the countless diagnoses I could have for this current moment. Was I delusional? Sleep deprived? Physically exhausted? A frog is talking, standing on its two legs, and introducing himself to me.

“You're not real,” I reassured myself. “You're not real at all.”

“Of course I am. Let me prove it,” the frog said, getting closer now. “Do you remember the time when you were a kid that you accidentally fell down the stairs while Esme was making your favorite breakfast. What was it? Oh, yes! Blueberry pancakes with eggs. Anywho, that is why you have the scar on your left hand. You slipped down the stairs on an old sock that Esme had lost.”

I paused and intently looked at the frog, squinting my eyes, “How did you know that?”

“I have always been around, you know. I come in various forms and various figures that you may have not realized.”

I felt like I was going to faint onto the cold kitchen floor. There was no possible way that I was standing here with a talking frog in front of me who kindly introduced himself. The frog started to wipe his face with this little green webbed hand.

“Am I-I- dreaming?” I asked.

“I don’t think you are,” he replied, looking around the kitchen. “I think we are alive and well.” He was examining his hands to verify that he was awake as well.

I pinched myself on my arm. The sharp sting was intense and then slowly faded out. I am here and I am not dreaming.

“I told you now,” the frog said, hopping onto the counter top. He was walking over to the window sill with all of the plants and vases. I watched him intently. It was so strange to see that he was hopping but on both of his back hind legs. “We are all alive and well.”

“How are you talking to me though?”

“Well,” he replied, looking at the dried dead flowers in a vase. “I am a spirit.”

“Spirit?”

“Yes. I come in various forms. I start as something and then I become something new when I am passed on.”

“Reincarnated?”

“Reincarnated.”

“Who were you before being a frog?”

“Peculiar thing,” he said, turning around and placing his slimy green finger to his little frog chin. “I do not know who I was but I still have all of the memories from when I was in the past. I do not remember how I became a frog nor will I know when I become another spirit.”

“Interesting,” I replied back. I was searching through my memories of who Robert could have been before he was a little green frog. “Does Esme know about you?”

“Of course she knows about us.”

“Us?”

The frog then took a seat on the ledge of the window and crossed his legs. He leaned on his left arm to support his little green body. “There are plenty of us who are settled in this home.”

“Where are they at then?”

“They will come around.”

~~~

Robert hopped along with me all day throughout the house as I finished unpacking all of my possessions into Esme’s home. I questioned him, as I was curious as to how long he has been around and where he has traveled. He told me that he doesn’t have an age and has always lived in this home. Knowing that there were other spirits in the house, I was on edge and searching for the next one I may encounter.

Around noon I sat at the breakfast nook and made a list of all of the repairs that I was going to need to do to the house. Since I was going to have to live here for the rest of my life, it was ideal of me to put Esme’s money back into the home. Robert watched me make the list intently, almost as if I was going to quiz him about what was on the list.

“Have you ever thought about just letting the wind take you where you need to go?” Robert asked. I kept writing on the notepad of tasks.

“No,” I replied, scratching out ‘Grass Seed’ on the list. “I’m a planner.”

“Not Esme,” the frog replied. “She was much like you when she was your age. She always planned and always stressed.”

“There isn’t much I can do to change that now,” I said back. I finished the list and ripped the sheet from the notepad. I placed the note on the refrigerator and placed my hands on my hips. “Time to go to the shed.”

“Take me!” Robert cried out. “I haven’t been in the sunshine since Esme left. I have been stuck in that cold, dark percolator. Though, I did get the best rest my spirit bones have ever had.”

I picked the frog up and cupped him in my hand. We walked outside and down to the shed that was in the backyard. The shed was built by Esme using scraps of different types of wood to build the walls and sheet metal for the roof. The door was a huge oak door that she had installed when I was ten. She said that having a nice door to open will always make entering the room more magical. I set Robert down on top of an upside down terracotta pot. I opened the door to the shed and was met with darkness, dust, old gardening tools, and broken planter pots. I took a step into the shed and it was magical.

The inside of the shed was nothing like what I had seen before I walked in. Different shades of blue swirled all around me as I was being sucked into the shed. Light scents of lavender and vanilla filled the air as I took another step in.

“Hello?” I asked out into the void. With a talking frog, who knew something so minuscule about me, I would not be surprised if another talking animal appeared.

“Esme?” a deep voice called out.

“She isn’t here anymore,” I replied back. A big rush of wind blew in my face, blowing my brown hair out of my face. “My name is Aurora. I am her niece.”

“Aurora…” the name said softly, almost reminiscing about a fond memory with my name. The blue swirls quickly moved at lightspeed and I was pulled by my waist quickly. I let out a scream and tried to turn around and watched as the shed door close. I shut my eyes and moved my arms in front of my face to protect myself from anything that I may be hurled into. I felt myself come to an abrupt stop and the wind calmed around me. I slowly put my arms down to my side and opened my eyes, fearing where I may be.

I was inside what looked to be a library or a study. The room was dark lit and the walls were filled with books of all different shapes and sizes. The fireplace was lit with a wingback chair sitting in front of it. Warmth and the scent of vanilla were stronger compared to earlier when I entered the shed.

“Come in,” the deep voice stated.

I could feel my heart rate starting to increase as I inched closer to the chair. Step by step I noticed a long orange bird's beak peeking from behind one of the chair wings. As I kept rounding the corner, the bird-like man was sitting in the chair, staring at the fire in front of him. His orange thick narrow beak clashed with the navy blue shimmery feathers that framed his face. His eyes were emerald green that were set almost too perfectly on his face. This creature was more human than I anticipated as I kept observing him.

“It’s been awhile,” said the man. He slowly turned his head towards my direction. “Please, sit.”

I looked around the room for a chair before the blue swirls reappeared again in a cloud-like shape to reveal a purple velvet chair. I took a seat in the chair while still examining the man. His broad shoulders filled the back of the chair with his winged arms resting in his lap. His legs resemble those of a heron. He caught a glimpse of me looking at his features. I quickly looked away.

“It has been forever since I have seen you,” he said in his low alluring voice. “Esme has a beautiful niece.”

“I am not sure who you are,” I stated. He turned his head to the right a little with a nod.

“My name is Gil. I watch over the house. I keep the peace and bring happiness hence the name.”

“Gil,” I repeated. “I have never seen you before.”

“No one sees me,” he said, uncrossing his legs in his chair. “I am meant to be hidden but always there.”

“Are you a spirit?”

“I am. I have been this spirit for as long as I can remember,” he stood up from his chair. He was tall, built, bold, and muscular. He slowly walked behind his chair with his wings behind his back. “This way.”

I obeyed. I followed Gil into a hallway that was filled with picture frames from various places in them. He kept his pace even to allow me some time to peak into the frames. Pictures of hillsides, castles, bars, homes, children, parents, couples, and families were shown in these frames. I couldn’t help thinking of Esme and the pictures that were in her house. Specifically, a painting that she created when she was visiting England before I was born. I would spend hours staring at the painting, admiring every detail.

Gil stopped at the end of the hallway and reached for the doorknob. He opened the door and stepped to the side to let me through first. I peered through the door frame and saw the blue swirls appear again.

“Go through,” he said, nodding his head. “This will take you to the shed.”

I looked up at him and back at the door. I took a deep breath and stepped forward. One foot was through the door and I felt the pull around my waist again. The next thing I could recollect, I was in the shed that I was first greeted with before entering into the magical world. I turned around to see if Gil was standing behind me with the door opened but I was met with the door to the real outside world. I quickly scanned the room to check the equipment that I would use in the renovations. I turned back around and opened the door, praying it would take me to reality. I was correct.

Robert was still sitting on the pot but holding a daisy flower to protect him from the sun. He quickly jumped to his feet. I closed the door behind me and I was met with the backyard of Esme’s house.

“You’re back!” he cheered. “I guess you met Gil?”

“I did,” I responded. I touched my face to make sure that I, myself, hadn’t turned into a man bird. “Gil.”

“Did you find what you were looking for?” Robert asked, seeming unbothered that I had just encountered another spirit.

“Oh,” I said, looking down at Robert. I scooped him up in my hands. “Yes.”

“Excellent!”

We both headed back into the house. Maybe Esme had a reason to keep living here all along.

~~~

As the sun set behind the clouds, Robert was nowhere to be found. I had tidied up the kitchen and dining area, sorting through all of the chipped plates and cups. Esme had a collection of cups that were light blue with little white flowers painted on them. She had them stored away at the top of the cupboard. I placed them on the dining table to help bring some type of life to the house besides me, Robert, and Gil, who was out in the shed.

I still became weary of opening up cupboards, flipping over tea cups, and opening containers as I was scared to meet another spirit. Robert was nice company in this lonely house. I checked the clock on the wall to see the time was little after nine. I stopped working for the night and headed upstairs to my room.

Robert was sitting outside of the door in the hallway in front of my room but this time, he looked like a normal frog. I scooped him up in my hand and placed him on the dresser adjacent to the bed.

“Time for some shut eye?” he asked, positioning himself on the dresser so his feet could dangle off the ledge. I walked to the closest to gather my night wear.

“I suppose it is,” I shouted back so he could hear me. I searched for my large suitcase that held all of my night gowns and other odd and ends clothing. The closet was still the same as the last time I was in here. I scanned the floor of the closet to find my suitcase until I noticed there was a small beaten brown leather suitcase sitting upright, perfectly in the middle of the room. Cuts, scratches, and tears were detailing the age and use of the suitcase. I heard a small thud in the bedroom and quick little slapping feet on the floor in my direction.

“It finally made its appearance,” said Robert, who was striding over towards me.

“It’s?” I asked, turning my attention towards the suitcase. What other possibilities could there be that could come from this house? I inched closer to the suitcase to lift it up by the little gold handle on the top of it. The weight of the suitcase was lighter than expected but there was definitely something in here.

“Yes, it’s,” croaked Robert. “Open, you will see.”

I set the suitcase on a small end table that Esme with a lamp on to illuminate her gigantic closet. I flipped both of the gold latches and started to lift the lid. A small light was shining intensely from the inside and crept its way out. As I kept opening the lid, my eyes started to squint from the intensity of the light. Soon, I had to close them. I held up my right hand over my eyes to shield the white light until I realized I was in an empty field.

The bright light had disappeared and it was dark outside. I turned around, scanning the field to find where I had been mysteriously dropped off at. The moon was casting just enough light for me to see when I noticed, this is where Esme’s house used to be. I looked back in front of me to find the leather suitcase sitting there with Robert on top.

“What happened to the house?!” I asked frantically.

“It’s all in here,” Robert replied back, tapping his webbed hand on top of the suitcase. “You packed the house up.”

“Packed the house up?!” I exclaimed, stooping over Robert now. I quickly picked up him and held him in my left hand and pointed at him with my right finger. “You better tell me how to unpack this house!”

“Easy there, Aurora!” he jumped back a bit in my hand, holding up his two slimy hands. “The house is unpackable. Just give me a second to explain.”

I paused my frustration as I lowered my finger down from Robert's little face. He was right, Esme wasn’t here to explain the mysteries of the house. Robert was left here for me. I sat down in the field next to the suitcase and placed Robert back in the same space I had moved him from.

“I apologize,” I quietly said. “It’s been a long day and learning how this house works has been making me feel mad. More than mad, delusional.”

“I understand,” said Robert, now laying on his back with his arms crossed, resting his head on them. “Things seem scary when we are not certain as to what it is.”

I nodded.

“Esme was about your age when she found this house. I was still here but I cannot remember what I was at the time. I could have been this suitcase that I’m currently laying on but I cannot recall a memory. Anywho, Esme found the suitcase with her sister before they packed for a trip to go across the country to see her father. She loved the simplicity of the suitcase and wanted to paint it to make it her own. So, this is what she got.” He tapped the suitcase again. “She didn’t know that there was a house that was stashed in this suitcase until she got home and started to pack. The bright light took her in and landed her right here in this same exact spot, with a house of course.”

I looked around the field again as Robert was telling me about the house. The house, the small shed, and the chicken coop were missing but the gravel driveway was still in the same place. I remember my mother telling me a story about how Esme had disappeared for a few days and would mysteriously reappear again. With mother’s story and Robert’s story, together it made sense. Mother used to say that Esme would disappear at times and cause a lot of trouble for her parents.

“As Esme got older, she decided it was her time to inhabit the home that she had. She moved into the home and moved it with her too. She could take the home with her anywhere she pleased as long as she had this suitcase. She traveled the world and saw all of the endless possibilities that she could take on. She understood the purpose of the house and the purpose of herself. That is why she always seemed to understand the way of life.”

“What about the spirits?” I asked.

“Some had already lived here and some she found on her travels. Gil has always lived here and so have I. The others, not so much.”

“Where are the others?”

“They are around. They will show up. Some of them go when they please so it is hard to know if they are around or not. Spirits are just as free as humans are but they never go away, even after death.”

“I had no idea that Esme had all of this,” I said, shaking my head at the thought. “It always seemed magical here and she had so many stories to tell. Why did I never think of this before?”

“Some painted Esme out to be mad and some painted her out to be a free spirit. I say she is anything and everything she desired to be,” Robert said, standing up.

I kept looking around at the empty field, taking in and processing everything that Robert had been telling me. The field was peaceful as Robert and I sat out here. I felt at peace. A shadow moved out from behind a tree and my attention was focused on it. It was Gil. He was standing, watching, protecting the home and the land.

“Oh,” Robert turned. “Hey, Gil!” He waved his green hand out at Gil who nodded his head in return. Gil disappeared back into the darkness of the woods.

“Who else knows about my home?” I asked. I noticed I said ‘my’ instead of Esme.

“No one but us,” said Robert. “Not even your mother knows.”

“I see,” I replied back, but I understood. Esme wanted to protect her peace but her spirit. That is why she always seemed so free. She never had to worry about anyone or anything intruding on her.

“Now that the home is yours, you’re free to do whatever you please. I just live here, so does Gil, and we are your spirits.”

“How do I get back home or even travel?”

“Easy,” he said, sticking out his long pink slimy tongue to catch a small bug floating around him. He missed. “You just state the place you want to go and open up the suitcase. The same light will appear and you will be in your destination before you know it. Just keep the suitcase with you. You cannot get back home if you do not have it. To return home, simply open it up without saying anything. The suitcase somehow knows that it is a secret code to get back home.”

“That doesn’t seem so difficult,”I said, laying back into the grass, looking up at the stars that were sparkling in the navy blue sky. This is my home. This is where I belong. I understand why Esme wanted me to have her home because she knew I’d love this place.

“What about the money?” I asked Robert. He was dancing around on top of the suitcase in the wind. I watched him twirl around to look at me.

“The money,” he repeated, filling through his memories. “The money is here to make the house not disappear. I remember Esme mumbling something about giving you money because she needed you to take care of the home. Not to fix it but to care for it. So, she put all of her life savings in your name so you’d come. It was to instill some hope for you if I couldn’t do it.”

I laughed. “Of course she did,” I shook my head. “I have more than hope now. I have faith in the home.”

Robert smiled a little and shook his head in agreement. The trees and brushes where Gil once was started to rustle. I could hear heavy, deep footsteps slowly pick up their pace as if they were running through the woods, gaining speed. The footsteps and rustling came to an abrupt stop and the flapping of bird wings could be heard. I quickly looked up in the sky to see if I could spot Gil. There he was. Flying high above the trees and circling around in the sky, moving his head to scan the field of where Esme’s house was. Robert croaked, taking my attention away from Gil.

“Let’s go home. I’m ready for some good shut eye myself,” he said, standing up and brushing himself off.

I stood up and lifted Robert in my hand. I opened the suitcase and in a flash of light I was back in Aurora’s closet. My home. My spirit is at rest.

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