ghosts

I was visited by ghosts today. The kind that, unfortunatly, make you cry. Although I don't mind crying-- it does feel pretty good sometimes. But I'm not writing about those ghosts, they just made me think of other ones. GOOD ones.
I lived with ghosts for two summers at camp. No really. I did. There's even a picture. I lived in this little teeny room in the main lodge. It isn't really a bedroom-- I dragged out all the crap that was being stored in there (microscope, boxes, old books, table, weird old dentist chair, you know-- camp stuff), and dragged in a camper bed. My mom made me curtains. I had my comforter that I'd used every summer at camp since I was 8, and my sleeping bag (see previous post). And I had ghosts. Besides all the poetic ones I could think of, echoes of campfire songs, chapel's of yesteryear and firewalk services past, and laughter of long gone campers, I also had real spirits in there. The old director sleeping on his bed under the stairs, doors opening in the middle of the night, lights flickering, screens banging when there's no wind... and just this incredible feeling. This incredible you're-not-alone feeling. I loved that room. I love ghosts. Reminders of all the living that's been going on. All the friendships, and fights, and crying, and caring, and laughing and singing and dancing. I could smell them, the ghosts. I really really could. They took care of me I think. Let me sleep well and live well.

What/who are your ghosts? It's time to make this blog interactive. Give me BISAs people.

BISA:

and i start to feel a feeling
like the warm air through the screen
you come regular like seasons
shadowing my dreams

--EmilySaliers