Page 20 of Sort of Seeing Someone

“You know, I could have probably used that thing two years ago when I moved in here. I just found out my landlord’s late husbanddiedin this house.”

“Oh, hell no,” Yas states, nearly spitting out her wine. “You’ve been sleeping for two years in a death-house?”

Her reaction tells me if I ever need some inspiration for a good “two truths and a lie” icebreaker, this one would make for a great fun fact.

“Well, I think you know what you need to do now,” says Yasmin.

“Open that second bottle of wine and pour some out for Larry?”

“That can be part of it, sure. But here’s a hint: look up. It’s a full moon, Moonie.”

“Yas, I love you, but I am not about to do some séance, channel-the-dead type shit.”

“Not a séance, mama. A full moon smudging ceremony. Follow me.”

The two us head into the house like we’re on an episode ofGhost Hunters. Yasmin grabs a lighter from within her purse and holds the smudge stick upside down. She lights it from underneath, then blows out the flame. The smoke fills the tiny abode and we both cough a bit.

“What are we doing?” I ask.

“This is one of my favorite full moon rituals,” Yas says.

Good god, how many are there?I wonder.

“It’s an ancient cleansing ritual. First, let’s start by setting our intentions.”

“I don’t know what that means,” I say.

“What do you wish for when it comes to this place?”

“That Larry doesn’t come back to haunt me on the last night I’m here.”

“Okay, so ‘peace for all souls.’ Let’s call it that. Close your eyes and visualize what that looks like.”

I stare at her blankly.

“Just do it, Moonie.”

I take a deep breath in and the sage tickles my throat. On the exhale, I close my eyes. Minus the lung irritation, this isn’t too unlike the beginning moments of my yoga practice.

Or my time with Esther Higgins.

From there, I visualize a restful, quiet night. I don’t hear or see anything unusual. The smell of the ocean creeps through my windows just enough to remind me how lucky I am to live next to a wonder of the world. And I wake up feeling recharged, not resentful, that I’m leaving for something new.

“All done,” I announce as I open my eyes.

Yasmin blows the smoke so it billows again. With her free hand, she moves the smoke towards my heart, over my head and down the front and back of my body.

“Now that you’re cleansed, we’ll waft the smoke in every corner of the house and get out any bad vibes.”

I don’t like the smoke, nor do I care much for walking around with something that’s burning in a small, enclosed space. But there’s an undeniable sense of calm that comes over us, so I trust Yasmin and let her continue to do her thing.

“Where did he die?” Yasmin asks. “Do you know exactly where he passed?”

“Right here. While he was watchingJeopardy!.”

“I’ll take ‘Creepy Shit for $500,’” she jokes. “Okay, so now you’ll hold this and stand here.”

Yasmin hands me the smudge stick and positions me where we suppose that Gerda’s husband croaked.

---