We overnighted at Danny's parents' house for Christmas this year. There was gingerbread and shortbread and turkey and homemade rolls. The crinkling of wrapping paper, the hum of the Playstation and the soft music playing upstairs made the atmosphere warm with peace.
Around eleven or so, Danny and I called it a night to the upstairs "guest" bedroom. "Guest" because Harmony, Danny's younger sister, designed and lived in this room. The walls are a warm yellow and bead board lines the lower half of the walls. She's on a mission now, but as we quietly climbed into bed Danny identified the unusual feeling that I just couldn't place. "It's like being in the room of a ghost."
He was right. It wasn't creepy or uncomfortable, it was just...quiet. Somber. All throughout the room are items she chose to leave behind. Not just the basics like the bed or the drapes, but things like a miniature vintage sewing machine, photographs of family, and little trinkets from her various interests and hobbies. She left them behind to live life as a missionary and, in a way, leave her old life behind. Like a ghost.
As Danny and I lie there in the quiet of the night, jingle bells no louder than the chirp of crickets shook somewhere out in the night. Even though we both left our belief in Santa Claus behind a long time ago, we still remembered the magic in the smile on our lips.
Memories, faith, learning, belief--that's all a ghost can take with them after all. We miss you Harmony! We look forward to your return as the wonderful person we know you will become.
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