I’ve tried to put this out of my mind for the past two weeks, and I’m struggling. See the cabinet? I don’t know how to explain this, but the dumb piece of furniture is talking back.
Have I lost you already? Sorry. See? This is why I’ve been trying to shoo this story away. Well, there are really two reasons:
- I don’t want to scare you.
- I’d rather you not think of me as entirely crazy (a little crazy is good, I think).
If we rewind to seven years ago, right about now, we were tending to my mom, Sue’s passing. It was rough in every way, especially for lovely Lisa, my disabled sister, but she was comforted when we brought mom’s urn home – to nestle it next to dad’s.
Our pops died many years prior, and Lisa became accustomed to seeing his urn in our house – sometimes chatting and shooting the breeze with him. Not creepy – sweet and endearing.
Eventually our parents want their urns buried together in a plot already picked out in their hometown, but for now, Lisa enjoys her periodic visits and communing with them. All good because it gives her peace.
When mom died, we brought her urn home and placed it next to dad’s and that’s when the shaky stuff started. The two cabinets in that room hold old china, glassware, and crystal and twice after Sue “came home” we had early morning issues with unexplained broken glass on the floor – with the cabinet doors flung open.
I’m a pretty meticulous person about order and neatness (more so than spotlessly clean – don’t come over and expect to eat off the floors) and I know I didn’t leave the doors open, nor did I place crystal or crockery in tipsy positions. No ma’am.
Okay, you might be thinking, it was an oversized truck rumbling down the street – you know, creating vibrations resulting in the shaky, shaky. No – we live on a dead-end street. No one goes by unless they’re stopping for supper, which is always nice. I make too much food anyhow.
Fine – not a chubby truck. Okay – it was a tremor – you know, those tectonic plates are a-shifting. Earthquakes happen everywhere – even in the Midwest. No. No seismic shift. I checked. Scratch that off the list.
How about a prankster? No. Unless hubby is the most colossal liar on the planet, with ninja-like magician skills. He can’t be in two places at once, no matter how cool he is.
This nonsense continued until I separated the urns. Mom went in one room, dad in another and the shaky stuff stopped. Just stopped. Since then, we have the occasional odd door slamming episodes (which we attribute to breezes…um…even when the windows are closed) but it’s been quiet in the crockery department for several years. Until Labor Day.
The cabinet in the picture is the culprit – the one that wanted to chat a couple of weeks ago. We had friends and family over for a BBQ and at the end of the evening, I washed and dried the serving pieces – cheese trays, platters – that were used for our feast and had the two middle doors open, returning items to their spots. Awesome. Task completion.
EXCEPT this: As I turned to walk away, the loudest possible rumble of broken glass and smashing crockery blew out of the cabinet. LOUDLY. I’d stepped back – maybe a foot – and when I turned, I expected to see everything in the cabinet in a heap on the floor. But what did I find? Nothing. None of the vases on the left (all sitting on glass shelves) or the serving pieces on the right and in the middle had moved one inch. Not a single thing was broken.
Sister Lisa was nearby and hustled over to help me and we just stood there – looking at each other, then the cabinet, sharing “I heard it too” while looking again and again to see what was broken. Hubby was upstairs and came flying in thinking the whole cabinet had toppled over. Now three of us stood in front of it with our mouths hanging open.
For Lisa’s benefit, I finally said – oh, it must’ve been something outside, or something that fell upstairs but I knew better. I just did. Why? Right before the crash Lisa was around the corner – saying goodbye, one last time – to mom’s urn before we drove Lisa home. Which leads me to conclude mom “replied” shake, rattle and roll style. If it was a nudge to remember her, I think we got the message. Loud and clear.
But still, I’m pondering; seeking other explanations. Nothing’s come yet – and maybe that’s okay.