"I Didn't Believe in Ghosts Until"

I didn’t believe in ghosts until

            my cat sat on the arm of the sofa,

            gaze fixed on empty space,

            ears pointed forward like satellite dishes,

            whiskers twitching,

            but nothing to see

                        at least not to my eyes;

            but nothing to hear

                        at least not to my ears.

 

I didn’t believe in ghosts until

            I was alone in the office

            and a sound reached my ears

            like voices in the distance

            laughing and talking.

I went down to the basement,

            calling out to see who was there,

            but there was no one to be found,

                        at least not to my eyes

 

I didn’t believe in ghosts until

            I was walking home in the dark

            and heard footsteps crunching

                        in the dry leaves beside me.

            I stopped,

                        and the footsteps stopped,

            and the scent of a familiar perfume

                        from decades ago

                                    reached my nose,

            and waves of love radiated out

                        from the empty air.

 

I didn’t believe in ghosts until

            I met the memory of my past self

                        in a box of keepsakes long unopened.

            I met myself who was

                        in forgotten journals

                        in forgotten photos

                        in a forgotten mix tape.

            I reached out to myself

                        and gave myself a hug,

                        and promised myself:

                        It Gets Better.