The Legacy

Imagine driving down a street, all alone, thinking only of the plans for something you are working on.

The phone rings and you answer it.  An angry voice demands something while at the same time implying that whatever is wrong is your fault.

You let that go and do your best to help solve this person’s problem and then excitedly start to share what you’ve been doing thinking a positive conversation will do away with the pall this call has cast on an otherwise perfect day.

But the person on the other end of the phone, while pretending to be interested in what you say, manages to turn this around too and make another mean spirited comment.

I have spent thirty years getting away from this sort of situation, but how quickly it can rear its ugly head up and envelope me again.  I know I don’t have to give it that much power over me, but it is like smog.  No matter how much I try to blow it away, it lies darkly over what might have been just another beautiful day.

Ghosts slip in and out of places, making their presence known by the cold hole they leave behind them.  The legacy of a being does not need to walk down the halls of haunted houses or wail over graveyard fences.  It simply speaks through the mouths of its offspring.