Stories I Tell My Sister To Sleep: Patricia's Ghost

Do you remember your first ghost? You probably wouldn’t. It’s like remembering being a baby or your imaginary friend; eventually, the memory slips away. But, like imaginary friends, ghosts appear in the early stages of life. Mom believed ghosts gravitate toward the young because of the immense energy that is produced from them. “Think of ghosts as lost ships and children like lighthouses,” she said. “Lost souls wander about, searching for a warm, effervescent light to guide them to the Elsewhere.” Children create a similar energy that unintentionally draws lost souls. I was nine when I saw my first ghost. Most children wouldn’t remember or probably thought they had dreamt it, but we weren’t most children. You were sound asleep. I would have been too if I hadn’t heard a wail coming from outside the house. When I peered out from the window, I saw a bride roaming near our lake. The fog perfectly coalesced with her dress. It was from that moment I knew who she was; the stories our grandmother told us about are true. There was no mistaking her for none other than a Wondering Widow.

Let me tell you another ghost story, only it’s not mine. This story is about a ten-year-old girl, yes, the same age as you, and although she couldn’t see the ghost, this was a ghost she would remember for years to come.

Patricia never liked her hair. It was too curly to tame, too nutty to brush out, and don’t get her started on the flyaways. In contrast, Patricia’s mom has short coiled hair and, with a few pins, is more kempt. But nothing can be more bothersome than the long strands of hair stuck onto the bathroom walls. If that didn’t seem disturbing to you, the strands of hair were brown, none of which any of the women in the tiny apartment have. Unfortunately, the hairs on the bathroom walls were the least of their worries. Doors creaking at 1 am, a sudden breeze that passes you with all the doors and windows locked is just one of the few bizarre occurrences these women have experienced. All these events were harmless but unsettling for them. Patricia’s mom, being a Catholic, suspected that a ghost had occupied their household. It was no vengeful spirit like you’ve seen in the movies, but a “passing” ghost.

What Mom said about ghosts being like lost ships is true, but in this case, this ghost was not searching for a light, but for familiarity. For some reason, the ghost saw familiarity with this family. Perhaps it was a previous tenant or looking for the family that once rented the apartment. Patricia’s mom explained to her daughter that when a ghost finds a safe place coated in love and affection, they assume that this was once their previous home without any recollection of their identity, only the feeling of being cherished. If the ghost feels they are with their loved ones, they will leave us souvenirs of themselves to let them know of their presence, such as a faint scent of jasmine, the deceased once wore, or objects mysteriously moving from their usual places, or even leaving strands of their hair. Patricia wondered if the ghost could be a recently deceased relative of theirs visiting them. Patricia also pondered if it was the ghost’s sympathy for her disdain over her hair was the true reason for the leftover hair strands in the bathroom. One morning, Patricia’s mom noticed her daughter wearing her hair down to school for the first time in years. Patricia’s mom smiled.

Your hair reminds me of Patricia’s, always in a ponytail with those cascading curls. Sleep tight, little sister.