The Time I Saw A Ghost

I had this boyfriend in high school.  Looking back on it now, he was just a very small part of my HS career and my overall life, but for whatever reason my teenage brain had his memory stored in The Big Things.  The relationship was brief.  And in the end, he pretty much broke me.  I think we all had a boyfriend like that.  Or maybe you didn’t.  Lucky you.

Well anyway, this old boyfriend.  Let’s call him Fred, shall we?

Well, Fred made some pretty poor life choices.  I don’t judge him–everyone is a little lost in their late teens, early twenties.  But just as my junior year of college came to an end, I learned some sad news about Fred.

Fred had an accident.  Fred was no more.  Fred was dead.

I got the story in broken pieces.  No one ever wants to gossip about the gory details that leads to ones demise.  And you all know me– I’m far too polite to go digging.  So I made my peace.  Goodbye, Fred.

A few short years later, I was sunning myself at my parents’ neighborhood pool.  It’s the same pool I’ve spent every summer since I was a year old.  Inevitably, I ran in to an old friend.

This old friend, we’ll call him Professor Holmes.  Professor Holmes and I were catching up and seeing who had tabs on who from our past.

That’s when my trusty old boyfriend came up.  Professor Holmes casually mentioned he’d seen Fred a couple days before.

I sat up straight in the chaise lounge, shaded my eyes with my hand and looked at him pointedly.
“I’m sorry, what?”

“Oh, yeah.  I ran in to good old Fred a few days ago.”

“Uh.  No.  That’s impossible.  Fred is dead.”

Professor Holmes looked at me like my hair is on fire.  Apparently, I had some bad information.  Don’t ask me how.  So for two years, I believed that Fred was dead.  When really, Fred was just fine.  Up to no good per the usual.

Let’s fast forward to the end of that week.  I was working in a pretty big office park at the time.  The building was always freezing, so I would bring my sack lunch outside and eat in my car like a loser.  Don’t judge me.  Being a grown up is hard.


So there I was.  Sitting in the trusty old Camry with G-105 blaring eating my sad turkey sandwich.  That’s when a lawn mower goes speeding past in front of my parking spot.

Holy shit.

Fred.  On a lawn mower.  Alive.

I snuck back inside before he could spot me.  And there I stood, inside that freezing cold building laughing to myself.

If I’d seen him only a week earlier, I would have had a heart attack.  Fred.  He rose from the damn grave.