My Mother

As soon as I walked into the house I knew it was haunted.  But I knew better than to bring it up to my aunt.  She was obsessed with ‘spirits’ and explained her bizarre behaviors by telling everyone that she was overcome by my dead mother.  Her sister – my mother – died when I was five and asleep in the same room.  No one has ever told me what happened, but to this day my mother’s ghost has never left my side.  This is how I know our hose is haunted.  Because she tells me where the ghosts like to hang out.  I know what all their names are and the circumstances of their death.  I know what all their unfinished business is and why it is still unfinished. 

Three years later and I’m tired of seeing her.  I’m tired of listening to her.  Because she never leaves me alone.  She is always here and always around.  When I wake up.  When I go to sleep.  When I brush my teeth.  Eat my breakfast.  All I want her to do is leave me in peace.  Silence only comes in my dreams.  Even with all this talking and roaming around she does, she won’t let me in one the one thing I want to know.  I was only five when it happened and no one will tell me anything.  You’re too young, they say.  You’ll never understand, they say.  I just want to know why I had to die first.