In her final days my mother gazed back through the telescope of her mind's eye. Across a century-wide ocean she spied herself at five & savored her favorite recollection: "The family gathered around our dining room table," she said. "I loved it. But everyone left the table too soon."

   Through her looking glass she could see 1917 more clearly than 2018, the year of her final spring. At 105 she knew that everyone had left that table but her. She would join them soon. 

   Many children link ghosts with fear & angels with protection. Every adult wants a guardian angel. Ghosts live with each of us.

   Those we wronged or who wronged us haunt us at midnight. The zephyrs of ancestors hover at midday.

   My father's & mother's ghosts appear to me each day. Lucky to have had loving parents, their presence is far more angelic than frightening. 

   Fortunately, ghosts can shape-shift. By reimagining our life stories we can disarm Fear. Bullies that terrorized & betrayers who disappointed can become scared beings who found no other way to act. 

   New stories can light our way across Fear's bridge to Love's lake, home to the only water that can heal. 

-Erie Chapman 

"Peekaboo with Mom, 1944" by Dad.