The picture on the bottom is of my grandfather who died before I was born. The Barbarian. My grand mother. And my great grand mother who me and sis called Two Mama. The one on top is from the front and about 40 years later. It's also where my father died. Between the china berry tree and the porch.
My grand mother was very much into the occult. She also was a life long member of our town's Methodist church. To her, these ways of thought were not mutually exclusive. I kind of liked her for that. How she would be visited by the church ladies that buzzed around town keeping them selves busy. And also how she immersed herself in all sorts of paranormal thinking.
Astrology. Reincarnation. Edgar Cayce.
I would lose a hoe in the field chopping cotton and she would sit there for a minute and then tell me the number of rows over to look and I would go there and find it. She told me she would pray to Saint Anthony and then just know where it was. She had too much on her mind to be yanking my chain, so who knows how she did it.
If ever there was a house that was haunted, my grandmothers was it. I don't believe in things paranormal. But that house scared the shit out of me. Even up in my forties I didn't like to be there alone. And I felt the vibe I felt, long before my father snuffed it there.
She always told me. Who ever is there on the other side can not hurt you. BUT! They can make you hurt yourself.
I never asked her how. I guess the ghost will scare me into running through a plate glass window.
I know my grandmother could not have foreseen her daughters hogging of everything and trying to pit me and my sister against each other. She had this Pollyanna view of the world and even though she knew the facts, she couldn't digest that her daughter recklessly got us so deep in shit.
She could have never seen that I was to be my mothers final conquest. The one right after my sister. I didn't recognize it myself until it came to pass.
My mother's domination was not a well thought out campaign.
Hers was an ongoing series of short term mind fuckings that ran together and added up to a life of bending to her will. Even through the years I barely saw her, I could feel her presence off and away liked a black hole whose gravity keeps all the matter of the galaxy swirling around it.
My grandmother was a smart woman.
Her knowing that the negative only causes you to hurt yourself.
Because that's what happens.
As bad as their actions are, they live in those degrees of separation that affords them the luxury of sleeping well and really think they are not evil.
We get what we get and we turn it back on our self.
I swear there were times living with my mother. if I had a gun, I would have walked straight out in the yard and continued the family tradition.
And you couldn't have blamed her. No one would have seen what led up to it.