I’m back in New Orleans after spending a long weekend in Spotsylvania, Virginia with my brother and sister. I went to check out Kelley’s new home (new to me.. she moved in with her boyfriend, Tom, almost two years ago), situated on a 4,500+ acre farm in the middle of an old civil war battlefield about an hour or two outside of Washington, DC. Justin happened to be in town, so we had a nice sibling reunion as part of the mix.
Kelley recently produced a story for With Good Reason Radio on abandoned grave sites. She became interested in the topic after she discovered an abandoned cemetery just 25 or 30 feet from her backdoor. We poked around in it for a bit during my visit. Kelley told me stories of previous farm dwellers buried under our feet. She’s a curious one and went all the way to the Library of Congress for her research. Apparently, there was a young girl who committed suicide in the house many, many years ago. Kelley has an ancient portrait of her but no other details. Needless to say, this led to a restless first night on the farm for me. It’s funny how complete darkness, the silence of the night and a good story can stir up a lot of fear inside. I imagined the ghost of this young girl approaching me in the middle of the night. I told Kelley that it freaked me out.
Kelley: Why does that freak you out? What do you think she would do to you?
Me: Scare me.
Kelley: No way. If I saw her, I’d ask her to tell me her story. I think it would be really interesting.
Totally Kelley. Good point. I never thought about interviewing a ghost. I only know to be afraid. Very afraid. Do we have the same genes?
It’s really beautiful watching the evening fog settle on the hills of the farm. It’s funny how you never miss hills until you live 5-10 feet below sea level in flat bayou country. Maybe I need hills and mountains and a crisp breeze every now and again.
Something ain’t right.
I’m back in New Orleans and already feeling the creeping anxiety of my unemployment. There’s a tinge of depression in that anxiety but mostly a lot of worry about the fact that my savings will soon dry up. Spending (a mostly unexpected) $7,000-8,000 this summer on maintenance and upkeep really messed up Plan B (Plan A was getting a job). I’m now on C or D or maybe even E at this point. I lost count. It doesn’t really make me feel better that hundreds of thousands of other Americans are in worse shape. It only makes me feel guilty for complaining about three months of job searching as a single white female without any major responsibilities.
Anxiety. Guilt. This is suddenly too serious for me.
I have spoken. All depart.
Jul 26, 2011