Life has been a little crazy lately.
Summer is in full swing, and between juggling being a supportive older sister in the bleachers, an employee at the local country club, and keeping up with writing and the heat index of 110, my productivity level is higher than ever.
I have figured out recently that I enjoy spending my time doing things that make me feel like I have accomplished something, and don’t waste any minutes of the day. With this much energy and effort in the air, my days go by a little quicker than I’d like. Before I knew it, it was nearly the middle of June.
With this busy schedule, sometimes it’s hard to remember that I am only seventeen, not twenty-seven, and that summertime is the time to embrace being a kid.
I got a reminder of what this childlike wonder feels like today, and it came from an unexpected source. Allow me to begin.
For the first time all week, I had a free afternoon. This meant I could do whatever, and this is a freedom I don’t take for granted. I chose to spend my time lounging by the pool, and just so I didn’t waste this sacred time, I brought my reading project along. After enough sun to cook a pancake, I went home to a quiet kitchen, as my usually loud family was busy with their own schedules.
Thankful for the silence and peace, I happily ate some gluten-free chicken nuggets with ranch dressing (a total childlike lunch) and watched an episode of The Office.
Suddenly, I heard a clicking sound, and I looked up. The kitchen was empty, the house was empty, so what machine or device was making this mystery noise?
I paused my show, got up, and walked over to the source, and holding back a gasp. It was coming from our broken intercom system, which hadn’t been used in years. The machine is from the late 90’s, and electronically connected to numerous boxes on the wall throughout the inside and outside of my house. It’s been broken for years, and never something we actually needed, so my dad just painted over most of them.
But today, I swear on my brother’s life, I heard one of these intercoms click, as if someone was on the other line trying to page in.
Call it a sign, call it a spirit, or call it a mechanical error, but I believe that someone or something was trying to communicate with me, and I was overtaken by naive wonder.
Accepting the fact that there simply must be a Poltergeist living in my intercom, I finished my chicken nuggets and listened to the periodic clicking pattern from the wall. The moment my family burst through the door, however, the clicking suddenly stopped. Again, I took this as a sign that the Poltergeist was just as elusive as it sounded, and didn’t want to waste it’s time, having more important plans on the schedule to take care of than mess with an innocent blonde teenager.
I realized today that even though I may live the life of a busy twenty-seven year old, I am never too old to believe in silly things, such as ghosts, or eating chicken nuggets for lunch, and hopefully someday the Poltergeist tries to reach out to me again.