One winter day my boyfriend Jim (who’s now my husband) and I went to visit his parents, brother, and sister-in-l law.  While there, we stayed at his brother’s house as usual which was next door to his parent’s old farmhouse.  

That night, while making love, the bed collapsed from a broken bed slat.  It was late and the others were already in bed.  We decided to head over to his parents house.  We put our jackets and gloves on, and to our surprise, stepped out into a blizzard.  We struggled through the long farm field in the blinding snow, which was great fun.  

Jim’s parents were still up watching a late movie.  Jim told them we were going to sleep upstairs.  This is when they decided to tell me the story of Aunt Neebie’s ghost.   

Jim’s father, John, had several sisters and brothers. Two of his sisters were Neebie and Nonie, who were very close.  Neebie died young of a brain hemorrhage but afterwards, Nonie felt her presence whenever she entered Neebie’s room, and the room appeared to be dust-free.  She believed the ghost of Neebie was still there.  

Jim said that one night many years before, he was downstairs alone when he heard noises coming from Neebie’s room.  He ran upstairs and found the rocker in her room, rocking.  This frightened him and he took off.  

After hearing this story, which thrilled me, I headed upstairs. It was now very late, so I entered the room cautiously and inspected it.  The room was large with wooden floors and big French windows overlooking the snow-covered fields. There was the infamous rocker, and a large mahogany blue chest in front of the bed.  There were two dressers, which I checked carefully. No dust!  Aunt Neebie’s ghost, I thought!   

The entrance to the closet was small; you had to stoop to enter.  Inside it was pitch black.  

We settled into bed but I couldn’t sleep.  I kept looking at the closet and thinking about Neebie.  I was excited, and yes, a little scared as I have a vivid imagination.  

Throughout the night, floorboards creaked and the old house groaned from the storm.  Once, I woke up abruptly.  I was sure Neebie was in the room.  It had grown suddenly cold, and I thought I felt a presence.         

The next day, I told Jim’s family about my adventure in Neebie's room.  Being a thrill seeker, I decided on a visit that summer to recapture the feeling of that night by sleeping in Neebie’s room again. However, this time, things were different.

First, there was no blizzard.  And when we went upstairs to drop off our bags, Jim’s brother decided to show me the entire wedding photos of Jim’s first marriage.  Being new and insecure in our relationship, this upset me.  

Then, when we went into the room, I found about a coating of dust on the dressers.  What do you know?  The view outside this time didn’t seem beautiful.  It just looked like dried-up dusty fields.  The bed didn’t fall in, there were no spooky noises, and I didn’t wake up to feel any presence.   

Overall, it was a disappointing night.  I had tried to recapture a special moment from the past, and like all special moments, it didn’t happen.  

Another example of when I tried to recapture the moment was our trip to Florida.   

The first time Jim took me down to Florida to stay at his cottage, we had a great time.  The trip there and back was scenic with wonderful mountains and towering cliffs.  

When we got there, the cottage was charming.  It had a small living room and kitchen, a tiny bedroom and bathroom, and a back porch with washer and dryer, plus about a half-acre back yard.  

It rained one night and all kinds of bugs and spiders showed up outside.  It was like being in a jungle.  We sat on the back porch, listening to the night sounds intermixed with the radio we found, tuned to the only station we could get.  This station played country music and every now and then, a brief newscast would come on, with some Local yelling, “Gators Rule,” which struck us as very funny.  

We found a lovely little park.  There was no one there, just a beautiful sandy little beach and a lake, all for us!  We lay out and swam; we hiked through the woods and saw all the cute little chameleons hopping all over the place.  It was romantic and serene.  

I had never been to Florida and I loved everything about it--the ocean, the manatees, the sudden thunderstorms, everything.  

The next summer, we decided to go again.    

This time, things didn’t go as well.  When we got there, some kind of animal had been living in the sofa.  There were droppings and a weird smell.  Also, a chameleon ran across the carpet several times a day.  The pump broke and took two days to fix.  

A storm knocked the power out in the middle of the night leaving us with no air or lights.  We left the front door open for light, as it was a moonless night and I’m terrified of the dark.   

Then my husband said we better shut the door because crazed locals might come by to attack us.  However, after a short time with no air, intense heat, and no light, we had to reopen it.  

I fell into a restless sleep and awoke to find a crazed local staring through the door.  I screamed, and woke Jim up, thereby waking myself up.  This went on and off all night.   

Several times, something ran over parts of my body, which caused me to scream.  I hoped it was the chameleon but thought it might be one of Florida’s giant spiders.  At one point, I started hyperventilating in the pitch-black darkness.

After three and a half hours, the lights came back on. 

We went back to our special park, but now the beautiful lake was a dried-up old pond, with barely enough water to wade in.  There were other noisy people there, and garbage on the hiking trails.  

We went back to the ocean again, but this time I went out too far and got sucked under by a huge wave.  Just when I thought I would drown, I came up gasping for air causing the lifeguard to keep an eye on me the remainder of the time.   

Then, like dumb tourists, we drove our Ford escort onto the beach where it became stuck in the sand.  Locals had to push us out.   

Later, going to visit Jim’s cousin and wife, we got stuck again in the sand on a back road well after dark.  Finally, on our scenic trip home, a deer raced out in front of us.  Jim swerved to miss it, and we spun across the highway twice, hit the guardrail, and ended up in the median facing the wrong way.   

I couldn’t catch my breath for a few moments.  I told my husband not to panic, that I had internal bleeding, and to call 911.  He told me no, I didn’t have internal bleeding, and we had no phone.   

The next thing I know the emergency squad was there and I had a big cone around my neck.  It turned out there was nothing wrong with me but whiplash.  

These are only two examples of me trying to recapture a special moment from the past, but I think you get the picture.  It can’t be done.  I also think movies, books, and music are never as good as the first time you experience them, and great food never tastes the same the second time around.  

In addition, anyone who has ever had problem with drinking or drugging, as I have, can also tell you, that the first time, everything is magical and life is perfect, but one can never recapture the feeling that first drink or drug gives you.  Yet many of us spent years trying to, only to end up in some horrible places.  

So what do I do now?  I just try to enjoy this moment knowing that it will never come again. 

Author's Biography

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