Okay, now I'm really freaking out

Doesn’t it freak you out when freaky things happen?

Recently I was on the sidewalk on Main Street. Across the way was this woman, Angela, who I went to high school with.

It had been years since I had last seen her.

Not sure how many years, but a lot.

About 20 minutes later I bumped into her again on the sidewalk. That time I commented on how funny it was that we hadn’t seen each in years but here we had seen each twice in 20 minutes.

A few hours later I was at Wal-Mart with my boys and guess who walks past me?

Yep, Angela.

It literally stopped us both in our tracks.

Okay, that was freakin’ weird.

It’s kind of like whenever I run into my friend Jean. She and I can go years without seeing one another – Yarmouth really can be a big place ¬¬– yet when we do run into one another, over the next two-week span we will see each other two or three times. It’s become a joke for us. We’ll part ways and say to each other, “See you tomorrow.”

And sure enough….

Yep, freaky.

I was thinking about this at home the same day I had seen Angela when my oldest son comes running up from the basement.

And he’s freaking out.

“Mom, I just saw a ghost on the ceiling!” he exclaims.

No you didn’t, I told him.

But he was insistent that he did, and went on in slight hysteria to describe what he had seen. It was a girl, sitting on a chair, holding a knife. Okay, this kid has a creepy imagination I’m thinking.

“You come see,” he said.

So I followed behind him, telling him the whole way he didn’t see a ghost. He pointed at the ceiling and I stopped in my tracks.

Whoa…something was definitely there.

“See,” he shouts, “a ghost!” And I’m thinking to myself, if this is a likeness of Angela, I’m outta here.

So I’m looking at this glowing apparition on the ceiling, trying to make out a face, a shape. As I’m doing this my six-year-old walks over to the chair below and picks up and walks away with a shiny toy that his oldest brother had bought at Wal-Mart.

And guess what? The ghost was gone.

“That wasn’t a ghost. It was the reflection of your toy on the ceiling,” I told my oldest son.

What I didn’t tell him was that for a few seconds, I was freaking out too.

He was relieved there was no ghost.

But not nearly as much as I was.