One thing I’ve never really understood, is why people lie about who they are, and what they believe. It’s a matter of living authentically to me. Why pretend to be someone you’re not? Lies always get caught up with you eventually. So when I was a pagan, from the very beginning even, I’ve been pretty much “out” at work and with people I know.

Some know more than others, obviously. How does the saying go? Meat for men, milk for babies. But everyone knew me as different, some saw me as just another root worker, some as a “new ager” - some as an out -and-out pagan. I’ve borrowed their popcorn maker for the Masquerade balls, read tarot cards for Halloween, and for some, would even bring them a lucky nickel or a money candle if they were going to Biloxi to play the slots.

Today, as I’m trying to finish up my charting, I overhear a couple of my co-workers discussing ghosts and spirits. They’d say something, then hush, turn to me, expecting me to say something, and I’d just bury my head in the chart. Newp. Not today.

I can’t help it if I see ghosts. I’ve been able to do so since I was three, probably earlier than that, but I just can’t remember it.

The very first time I DO remember seeing a ghost, was at my grandmother’s house.

She lived in a huge old Victorian house in the historic district of our hometown, and we had all gone to visit her - both of my parents and all five of us chillens. Everyone was all up front, chit chatting, and not paying any attention to ME, which irritated me to no end. So I decided I was going to go back to the kitchen; my grandmother always kept a glass of water in the refrigerator for her grandchildren, so it would be good and cold and we wouldn’t have to worry about getting ice out of the trays.

So I went back to get the refrigerator water; except there was a man in the kitchen. Nice man, tall, balding. I’d never seen him before. He got the water down from the refrigerator and gave it to me, and asked me the type of questions one asks a three year old. Did I like to color? Did I learn how to use scissors yet? What did I think about my new baby sister?

I answered all his questions and drank the water, remembering my mother had told me many times not to talk to strangers. I figured, if he was in my grandmother’s house though, surely she knew him. But I excused myself as fast as I could and went back up front, where everyone was, and said there was a man in the kitchen.

They went back to look; there was no man in the kitchen. They checked all the doors - locked; checked all the rooms, no one was there. They asked me and asked me what he looked like, and I tried to explain - but hell! I was three years old! My vocabulary wasn’t that great. Finally they pulled down a picture, and I identified him as the man I talked with in the kitchen.

It was my grandfather, my grandmother’s husband, who died two years before I was born.

My grandmother fainted.

I don’t always see full body apparitions, in fact it’s rare that I do. Usually they’re just misty figures floating around, or movement out of the corner of my eye, who go away if I tell them to. Sometimes I just get a feeling on the back of my neck, and once or twice I’ve heard someone, when no one was there. Mostly, it’s visual, though. And you know? after so many years of it, it doesn’t bother me.

I don’t know why I’m able to see them, but my mother says it’s because I was born with a veil - or with the amniotic sac, covering my head as I was born. It’s an old timey belief that it indicates psychic ability.

It’s not like seeing ghosts is new; when Jesus rose from the dead, his disciples thought they were seeing a ghost. To prove he wasn’t a ghost - he asked for food, and ate it. Everybody knows, ghosts can’t eat!

Apparently they can, however, give glasses of water to little girls!