The Ghost In My Pantry
The ghost in my pantry makes noises some nights. Discards of chips and chocolates from the shelves. A midnight feast for her and the centipedes that hide in the dips of this old home. The door gently sways open to a peering, just wide enough for a crack of darkness from within, and a pierce of light from the kitchen.
She’s been my companion for some time now. She shows me compassion, draws a map to where mine lives. She keeps the pantry safe from the ants, and made a sanctuary for my cat, who crawls in for a bite of what she’s saved. The ghost in my pantry is friendly, we often have picnics together. Me at the dining table, her sitting on the edge of the runner.
Some days she’s not even there. I think she has gone off to the equator, a few evenings at a time. Even ghosts go on holiday, to be by their lonesome.
When she returns, she resides in the deep. Snoring near my cleaning supplies, the clumsy pyramid of toilet paper rolls and the paper towel stashes my mom brought over from a recent trip to Costco, as her blanket. Thanks Ma for keeping the stock.
One night I was quite sad. And the ghost was quiet. I think she was sad too. We both knew that as much as I left that pantry full, enough for the two of us and the spiders that visited, I had to throw some of it away soon. I hold onto things. Expired jars and cans. I tossed plenty as of late. I needed to cull once more, and the ghost wanted me to follow through. To make room for her vanity and her cobweb gowns, to find a place to set the skeletons we both share.
The ghost in my pantry taught me courage one Sunday at 6:00pm. The usual sounds of her sighs and songs faded. I was in the living room, under and amidst the glow of false candlelight, soft, dim twinkles. The car shadows outside my window passing by like the top of a tall man bobbing back and forth and back and… She sat next to me, a cold shift on my great off-white couch, and held my hand as a candle burned the recollections, a goodbye bid to almost. The shadows outside disappeared then, too. We cried and we smiled.
The ghost in my pantry had left her haven this December night. She rose with a creak, and silently drifted back to the closet. She wished me all the stars, the gleam of our moon, and the morning sun.
The ghost closed the door and I went to bed.