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I was dead asleep. No pun intended.
Face in the pillow. On my stomach. Out cold. When I felt a tap on my shoulder. I groaned and cracked one eye open. Coco was sitting beside me, completely unbothered, and barely lifting an eyelid. I closed my eyes again. Nope. Tap. Tap. I sighed and rolled over. And there they were. All of them. Standing around my bed like it was a group project I forgot about. Were you sleeping? Catalina asked. Obviously, I muttered. Joe looked relieved. Good. We didn’t want to interrupt. Donna blinked. We absolutely interrupted. Sally crossed her arms. Darling, we were checking your status. Continue. Lionel smiled gently. You looked peaceful. I sat up, rubbing my eyes. Okay. I have had weird dreams lately. And since you’re all here… They leaned in. Literally. Even Coco seemed curious. I’ve been thinking, I said. What surprised you the most… after you crossed over? Silence. Not awkward. Sacred. Joe spoke first. He cleared his throat. I didn’t think I believed in God, he said quietly. Not really. I believed in… her. He glanced at Donna. She was my faith. She prayed. She trusted. She saw God in everything. So I kind of… borrowed it. Donna’s eyes softened. Joe continued. When we divorced… it felt like God left too. Like I lost both at once. I thought… okay. Guess I’m on my own now. He swallowed. Then I got here. And it was like… God never left. I just stopped looking. Donna let out a small breath. You were never alone, she said softly. Joe nodded. I know now. Catalina wiped her eyes dramatically. Okay, why am I now sad in these furry pajamas. I’m not supposed to be sad while wearing furry pajamas. Lionel chuckled. I was surprised that love didn’t shrink, he said. I thought death would make it smaller. It made it infinite. Sally sniffed. I was surprised God wasn’t louder, she admitted. Turns out, He whispers. Very inconvenient. Donna smiled. I was surprised I forgave myself, she said. Instantly. Like it was never in question. Catalina thought. I was surprised I still cared so much, she said. About people. About dogs. About everything. Coco purred. Sally rolled her eyes. He thinks he’s holy now. I sat there, wrapped in blankets, heart full. Thank you, I whispered. No one moved. No one faded. No one rushed off. The sky outside shifted — soft pink to gold. Morning arriving quietly. Joe leaned back in a chair. Donna rested her head against his shoulder. Catalina sat cross-legged at the foot of the bed, hugging her dog. Lionel closed his eyes, breathing it in. Sally, for once, said nothing. We just watched. Together. The sun rose. And for a moment, everything felt exactly where it belonged.
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I woke up at 5:31 a.m.
Not because of Coco. Not because of anxiety. Not because of a weird dream. Because the room felt… full. I padded out to the lanai with my coffee, steam curling into the soft pink of a Southwest Florida sunrise. The sky looked like God had gone gentle with the paintbrush. And there they were. Already gathered. Joe sat on the edge of a chair, Donna brushed against the screen with light passing through her like she was made of morning. Catalina sat cross-legged on the floor, hoodie off, whispering to her dog. Sally floated near the sage. Of course she did. Lionel leaned on the rail, scarf fluttering, watching the sky. You’re up early, I said. Sally sniffed. We had opinions. I sipped my coffee and stayed quiet. This felt like one of those mornings you don’t interrupt. Lionel exhaled slowly. He used to love mornings like this, he said softly. Joe looked over. Who? Lionel smiled — not big. Not dramatic. Just real. My husband. Fifty years. Before it was allowed. Before it was safe. Before anyone thought it was something worth celebrating. Donna tilted her head. He’s still living, isn’t he? Lionel nodded. Still watering the roses. Still listening to Barbra too loud. Still pretending he doesn’t talk to me when he does. He paused. We used to walk the beach at the Cape holding hands. People threw rocks. Bottles once. Yelled things I won’t repeat. So sometimes we’d walk ten feet apart and pretend we didn’t know each other… then meet back at the car and laugh like we’d pulled off a heist. Catalina whispered, That’s heartbreaking and iconic. Sally’s eyes softened. It was. It is. Go on, she said quietly. Lionel swallowed. Every night, no matter how bad the day was… he’d touch my arm before falling asleep. Just once. Like… “I’m still here. You’re still mine. We survived today.” He smiled. I think that’s how I learned what love actually is. Then he added, almost shy now, And listen… I loved women too. I did. I dated them. I cared about them. I thought that was the life I’d live. Joe nodded slowly. But then I met him, Lionel said. And it wasn’t about bodies or labels or what box anyone wanted me in. He looked out at the water. It was his character. His kindness. The way he noticed things. The way he never left anyone behind - not even a stray dog or a nervous cat. Cat’s dog lifted his head, ears perked. Coco pretended not to hear. Lionel shifted, pushing off the railing, more animated, hands moving as if he could see the moment right in front of him. Did you know, he added, a soft laugh slipping out, he wouldn’t let me leave the house with my collar crooked? He giggled, shaking his head. He’d stand in front of me, fix it, button it properly, and say, “Now you look like you remember who you are.” A beat. He was my best friend… he said softly. He is my best friend. No one spoke. Even Coco seemed respectful. Catalina finally broke it. Okay but why am I emo at sunrise? This is not the algorithm I ordered. Sally cleared her throat. Yes, well. Feelings before coffee are rude. She glanced at her nails. Also, when is the next book being published? I refuse to peak emotionally without a release date. Donna smiled at Lionel. You shop? Religiously, he replied. We’re going, Donna said. Joe blinked. We’re? Catalina wheezed. Oh my God. He’s jealous. This is content. Joe muttered, I liked him first. Sally patted his shoulder. Darling, drink your java. He did. And I sipped my coffee too. The light shifted. One by one, they softened. Joe first. Then Donna. Then Lionel. Catalina and her dog last, mid-whisper, mid-laugh. Only Sally remained. She looked at me, softened for half a second. Publish faster. And she was gone. Coco curled up. The morning breathed. And I smiled. Coco was sitting upright beside my pillow like a tiny gargoyle, pawing at the air.
Not the air. I squinted. That’s when Catalina’s dog phased halfway through my duvet and popped out on the other side, tail wagging. Coco hissed. Loud. Personal. Bro, chill, Catalina’s voice drifted in from the corner. He literally just got here. Let him live. I sat up, rubbing my eyes. They were all there. Joe was perched awkwardly on the edge of my dresser. Donna stood behind him, arms folded. Sally lounged in my reading chair like it had been upholstered specifically for her. Lionel stood by the window, blending in with the curtains and adjusting his scarf. Catalina flopped onto the foot of my bed, hoodie off for once, dark hair falling around her shoulders, glossy lips glowing like she’d just stepped out of an angel Sephora. Okay, I muttered. Is this a meeting or a hostile takeover? Sally sniffed. Darling, we don’t host meetings before coffee. This is a symposium. Lionel nodded solemnly. On emotional fabrics. Joe blinked. That’s not a thing. It is here, Lionel said gently. You’re giving off distressed denim. Donna covered her mouth to hide a laugh. Catalina snorted. Yeah, Joe. You’re serving thrift-store breakup core. Joe stared at his hands. …Is that bad? It’s transitional, Lionel said kindly. You’ll evolve into cashmere eventually. Joe nodded like this made perfect sense. Sally crossed her legs, inspecting her nails. Lionel leaned over her, also inspecting. Sally snapped her eyes open. Darling, if you sing, I haunt you. Catalina whispered, I ship their trauma bond. Coco lunged at Catalina’s dog. They both froze mid-air like a paused cartoon. He started it, Catalina said. Joe rubbed his face. Is this heaven or a daycare? Lionel turned to Joe, lowering his voice. Feel that tension in your shoulders? That’s burlap energy. It means unresolved guilt. Joe winced. I knew it. Don’t worry, Lionel said. We’ll get you into something breathable. Catalina shrugged. I just love chaos. It’s my brand. It’s not a brand, Sally said. It’s a personality disorder. Catalina gasped. Slay. I rubbed my temples. Okay, why are you all here? Joe raised his hand like he was back in school. We heard you wrote about how weird your sessions are. You can’t make this stuff up, Donna added. Correct, Sally said. So we’re adding footnotes. Lionel gestured to Coco and the dog. Exhibit A: celestial pet custody disputes. Catalina beamed. Also God’s dimension has better vibes than TikTok. Joe frowned. There’s TikTok in heaven? No, Catalina said. But the algorithm still finds you. Sally sighed. I need a drink. A vermouth appeared in her hand. She took a sip. There. Balance restored. Lionel nodded. That’s vermouth with a hint of unresolved flirtation. Donna laughed. Joe looked at me. Do you… feel God when we’re here? I nodded. Every time. The room softened. Warmed. Like the air itself leaned in. Catalina’s dog finally jumped into her arms. Coco hissed. He’s literally jealous of a dead dog, Catalina said. Sally rose, smoothing her muumuu. Well. That’s enough emotional vulnerability for one evening. Lionel adjusted his scarf. Cashmere next week for Joe. Joe nodded seriously. I blinked. They were gone. Coco flopped back down. The dog was gone too. The room felt holy. Quiet. Full. I lay back down. God, I whispered. You have a weird sense of humor. I woke up to Coco sitting upright beside me, paws raised, doing that slow-motion boxing thing cats do when they’re deeply offended but not yet committed.
At first, I thought he was fighting the air. Then the air sneezed. Catalina’s dog was halfway in the room, tail wagging through dimensions like this was the best day of her life. Coco hissed once — ceremonial — then boxed again. I pushed myself up on my elbows. Guys. It’s THREE in the morning. Catalina was already there, sitting on the floor, hoodie sleeves swallowed past her hands, chin tucked into her knees. No phone, but somehow the posture still screamed screen-time. Okay but hear me out, she said quickly. This is actually peak energy. Peak what? I asked. Like-- she waved vaguely, main character but done buffering. Joe stood at the foot of the bed, hands folded, posture so polite it made my sheets feel formal. I can move, he offered. I didn’t realize we were… assembling. Donna leaned against the wall, arms crossed, watching the whole thing with a soft smile. You look lighter, she said. Not happy-happy. Just… less braced. Catalina scooted closer to me, eyes bright and nodding hard. Yeah. You’re not clenching anymore. You’re giving “unbothered but aware.” Before I could ask what THAT meant, the air behind Sally shimmered. She appeared elegantly floating — obviously — silk-adjacent, perfectly composed, eyes already scanning the room for incompetence. She glanced at my nightstand, then my hair, then her own hands. Long pause. Are we publishing the next book this fiscal year, she asked, inspecting a nail, or am I meant to wither creatively? Coco swatted again (I think that one was secretly meant toward Sally!) Catalina whispered, She’s intense but like… expensive intense. Then someone else walked in. Not floated. Walked. Tall. Slim. Scarf that absolutely did not belong to this century. He stopped mid-room, surveyed the bed, the dog, the cat, the gathering, and sighed like a man who had seen this before and survived worse. Darling, he said, looking directly at Sally, you’re blocking the light. Sally didn’t turn. Everyone, she said calmly, nodding toward her left, this is Lionel. Lionel smiled at me, then at Catalina, then down at Sally’s hands. Those nails are tragic, he said almost reverent. Give me five minutes of a Manilow song, and a decent file, and I can save the decade. They’ll be right back to where we used them to… And if you start singing, I walk, Sally snapped. Catalina’s eyes widened. Joe cleared his throat, shifting his weight. Your scarf, he said to Lionel. Is that… silk? Lionel blinked, surprised. Then smiled. Italian. Vintage. And no, you may not borrow it. Joe nodded, serious. I respect that. Sally watched them from the corner of her eye. Well, Donna exclaimed said, this should be educational! I was sitting on the lanai, coffee in hand, steam rising like it had a little mission of its own in the chilly Southwest Florida morning. I opened the proof of Your Mean Aunt Sally: Pearls of Wisdom for Navigating Gaslights and Grandiosity for the first time and just… smiled.
Poke! Holy hell! I yelped. Nicely done, Aunt Sally said, leaning over, pearls jingling, vermouth in hand. I laughed, still startled. And see, you’re still here after all of that. I blinked. After all of what? Darling, she said, lipstick gleaming. All the absurd, exhausting, infuriating nonsense with narcissists. You’re upright. You’re writing. You’re still intact enough to make people laugh. Well… I’m trying, I said. Keep going for yourself, she said, leaning closer. And for everyone else who needs to see they don’t have to survive silently. Don’t be afraid to put this out there. Pearls are meant to roll into the world, not sit in your hand collecting dust. I giggled. You really mean that? Of course I do. Now, look at the bar. She gestured with a flick of her wrist. Coins scattered in front of her along with her vermouth. I like that you noticed the coins. I don’t do cards. Coins are tangible. Direct. Knows what it wants. Cards are too… fussy. Coins, got it, I said, still smiling. And darling… she added, lowering her voice, next book? Men and women, dating, chaos… maybe even a chapter on why “it’s complicated” should be a crime. But we’ll call it… brandishing the words like they’re flashing on a billboard “Coins, Chaos, and Catching Feelings.” I laughed so hard I almost snorted coffee through my nose. Oh, and one more thing, she added, eyes twinkling even brighter, if anyone asks, I was absolutely sober when I wrote it. Well… mostly. On God? I heard a giggle to my left. Coins got the drip. How about calling it “Red Flag, Green Flag”? It was Catalina chiming in! I don’t do flags! Sally’s voice was sharp and hilarious all at once, making the coins jingle in protest. I’LL WRITE THE NEXT ONE! Joe floated in on my right. Sally raised an arm at him like a Bewitched cameo, fingers twitching, coins tossing, and wind now blowing. Joe cringed so hard and POOF, he was gone. (Not a drop of vermouth was spilled.) Sally turned to me, shoulder raised, mischief sparkling in her eyes. I’ll be back.. She vanished too. Something tiny clinked onto the lanai tile. I bent down to pick it up. A shred of mirrored glass - looked just like it came straight off a disco ball. And for a heartbeat, I thought I heard the faintest thump…thump…thump - like Studio 54 itself was winking at me. The One Where Joe Came Alone.
He came in quietly this time. No entrance. No commentary. No Sally. Just Joe, standing near the doorway like a man who wasn’t sure he was allowed to be there. I woke up because the room felt… heavier. Not loud. Not chaotic. Just full. Joe rubbed his beard first, then the back of his neck. His baseball cap low, voice barely above a whisper. Hey… I didn’t bring anyone. Is that okay? I nodded and sat up. Of course it was. He shuffled closer, eyes soft, a little nervous. I just wanted to talk about my kid. Without… the committee. I smiled. I went to check on her. Not hovering — just watching. Seeing how she was doing now that everything had shifted again. New routines. New quiet. New grief stacked on top of old grief. She was getting ready to go out, he said. Different car this time. Not like the others. He paused, searching for words. You know how you test-drive stuff after something ends? This one felt… steady. Like a truck. Not flashy. Solid. Then Joe swallowed. And then I saw it. The first kiss. I winced. Joe winced right back. We just looked at each other like… yikes. An agreed parental surrender. I froze. So then I, I took a step back and immediately bumped into the Christmas tree like a cartoon dad caught sneaking cookies. Ornaments rattled. One fell — the one someone had given her with my name on it. I thought for sure she’d notice. Thought she’d stop. But she just picked it up, smiled a little… and kept going. He looked at me, eyes glassy. That’s when I knew. She’s okay. How do you feel? I asked. Joe shrugged, then laughed softly. Honestly? A little relieved. And… proud. He’s good to her. He was good to her when her mom… Well, they were friends before everything went sideways. Then, quieter: I think I like him. He waited for that to feel wrong. It didn’t. I don’t want to interrupt her life, Joe said. I just want her to know I’m not worried about her anymore. I see all of her potential. More than I ever could. I want her to settle in. I want her to stop thinking she’s betraying me by simply being happy. I told him something he already knew but needed to hear: Love doesn’t get replaced. It expands. And parents don’t disappear when kids move forward — they get carried. Joe nodded slowly. Yeah. That sounds about right. He adjusted his cap, took one last look around my room. You don’t need to tell her anything dramatic. Just… if you see her, let her know I’m good. And that I saw the kiss. I raised an eyebrow. You want her to know that? Joe grinned. Yeah. She should know I didn’t haunt the tree afterward. Joe lingered a moment, like he was deciding whether to say more. Then he nodded — once — like we both understood what would happen next, even if neither of us said it out loud. He quietly exited like a dad turning off the porch light once he knows his kid made it home safe. And then he faded from my view. I must’ve been half-asleep, half-dreaming when I felt the mattress dip — just a tiny bit — like someone sat down next to me.
Which meant one thing: The gang was here. Again. Catalina whispered first, sitting cross-legged at the edge of my bed, hoodie off so her dark curls framed her sweet face. We were just talking about your newsletter, she said. The part about God slipping in fun? We LOVE that stuff. I blinked. How did you-- Then Sally floated in like a glittery vessel in a Christmas Boat Parade. Darling, we read everything you write. It’s heavenly entertainment. Great. Zero privacy even in sleep. And Sally smelled like she had marinated herself in 1964 lipstick and powder. Coco jumped off the bed, offended by her very existence. Joe wandered in behind her, already looking apologetic, like he knew Sally was about to take over the entire room. Donna trailed after him, arms crossed, muttering under her breath. Sally started lecturing immediately. God handles the big things, she said, waving a hand. You know — parting seas, changing hearts, organizing miracles. The dramatic Broadway numbers. Then she leaned in, whispering like she was telling me about a sale at Macy’s. But the small things? Oh honey… that’s where we come in. Catalina giggled. It’s true. God’s like: “Team, nudge THAT ONE. She’s drifting.” Joe raised a hand. Sometimes it’s a soft nudge. Sometimes-- Donna cut in, sometimes it’s Joe missing the assignment and bumping into the wrong person! Joe looked offended. That was ONE TIME. I asked what kind of “nudge jobs” they did. That opened the floodgates. Catalina lifted her chin proudly. Sometimes I make someone smell the perfume I used to wear. Just for a second. So they know I’m close. Then she shrugged. Or when people ignore my sign, I black out and go full Rambo. Someone's Stanley is get-ting yee-ted. Sally tossed her hair like she was in a shampoo commercial. I prefer more dignified interventions. I once made a woman’s radio turn on to her wedding song. She cried for twenty minutes. Very rewarding. Donna nodded. I helped a man find a parking spot during rush hour. He thanked God, but I was like — sir, I RAN for that spot. Joe looked at me and said quietly: Sometimes people can’t feel God yet, but they can feel us. So God lets us be the bridge. Just until their hearts open. I felt that one. ⸻ Then Sally clapped her hands, startling everyone including herself. Oh! And don’t forget the lost selenite business! They all looked at me knowingly. I groaned. Yes, yes, the selenite that always turned up right before something wild in my life… Joe nodded. God’s way of saying “gear up.” Catalina added, And the last time you found it after-- She stopped, eyes softening. Well… that one was God holding you. Hard. Sally floated closer, unusually gentle for a moment. Small miracles prepare us for the big ones, darling. Even the painful ones. Then she smirked. And sometimes the small miracles are just… us messing with you because you need a laugh. Donna snorted. Tell her about the time the Bible app opened on Joe’s phone. Joe threw his hands up. I DID NOT OPEN IT! GOD DID! Catalina whispered to me, We absolutely opened it. ⸻ I lay back against my pillow, shaking my head as they started bickering, overlapping, teasing each other like a celestial comedy hour. They may be spirits, but the chaos? That’s all personality. I closed my eyes as they chatted about their “side gigs” for God — a scent here, a song there, a nudge toward hope, a whispered memory at exactly the right moment. Small miracles, big love. And just before I drifted back to sleep, I heard Sally’s voice — soft, for once. We never say no when God asks us to help. It’s the best job we EVER had. Then Coco hissed at someone (probably Sally), and the room faded to quiet. Coco woke me up at 3:37 AM with a meow so aggressive. I sat up, heart pounding, and there they were — the whole gang floating in like they’d rehearsed the entrance.
Coco, of course, hissed at Sally first. Sally just lifted her chin, muumuu fluttering like a curtain in a haunted gift shop, utterly unfazed. Joe got a polite twitch of Coco’s whiskers — tolerable. But Catalina? Catalina got the royal treatment. Coco leapt onto her lap like she was the last warm human on Earth. And then Catalina’s dog bounded in, all wagging spirit and enthusiasm, which immediately sent Coco sprinting out of the room! Honestly, those two were vying for her attention like contestants on a reality show. I rubbed my eyes and muttered that this week’s newsletter was about grief and the weird things that happen in sessions — the you-really-can’t-make-this-up moments. They all nodded like they’d already read it. Which… is unnerving. I asked them what it was really like being invisible — or whatever the word is these days — and Sally stepped forward like she had been waiting her entire afterlife for this question. Invisible is cute, she said, but darling, it’s more like being present in God’s wavelength. But if invisible helps you explain it, use it. Catalina leaned back, hands behind her head, ultra chill. It’s like being logged into every app at once but without the lag. Joe cleared his throat like he was about to give a TED Talk no one asked for. Actually, the perfect dimension is very organized. There’s a-- Catalina cut him off. Oh my gosh, tell her about the walkway. Do it. Joe groaned. Fine. Then he explained. So apparently, when you “expand” into the perfect dimension — aka Heaven’s Grand Reveal — it doesn’t matter if you were Mother Teresa or someone who stole office pens: the lights come on, and BAM — you’re standing in front of God. The Creator of everything seen, unseen, half-seen, and badly-seen. If you’re not emotionally ready for it? Too bad. God hits that “show full truth” button like He’s turning on stadium lights. And then comes…the walkway. It’s basically that moving flat walkway they have in airports. Except instead of sending you to Gate C14, it sends you straight into Holy Clarity™. You step on it, and Jesus walks next to you like, “So… about that attitude you had in 2017.” Some people glide through peacefully. Some people try to turn around. SOME people trip twice and pretend they didn’t. Donna elbowed him. Only twice? That’s generous. Joe held his chest, offended. I was OVERWHELMED by God’s LOVE. Donna smirked. And your own nonsense. Sally floated higher, all dramatic, arms wide. The walkway isn’t punishment, she said. It’s truth. You suddenly realize how much God loves you… and how little you loved yourself sometimes. It’s jarring. Like turning on your phone camera accidentally at 6 AM. Catalina’s dog barked in agreement while Coco reappeared just to hiss at Sally again. (Sally muttered something about cats having spiritual superiority complexes.) I laughed and thanked them, even as my eyes drifted shut again. Their voices overlapped, teasing, bickering, comforting, all at once — the most chaotic heavenly family meeting I never asked for. And somewhere between Joe complaining about holy walkways and Catalina’s dog chasing Coco’s ego back down the hall, I fell asleep, wrapped in the softest sense of truth and the strangest peace. I locked Coco out of the bedroom.
I’ll admit it. I needed sleep and I thought, Tonight is the night I reclaim my REM cycles. I didn’t realize Tonight is the night my entire nervous system gets judged. But of course — of course — I woke up at 3:07AM, staring at the ceiling like a confused Gen X ghost. And before I could even sit up, the whole gang drifted in like they’d been waiting in my closet for their cue. Catalina was first, whispering dramatically Where do you feel this? and poking me in the stomach. Here? Intuition check? Holy Spirit hotline? Joe leaned over me, wiggling his eyebrows like a dad-joke gymnast Or maybe it’s heart stuff. Chest stuff. Big emotional downloads, you know? Donna swatted him Joseph, get your face out of her aura. And then Sally arrived… floating, regal, judging the entire room with her usual “Dancing with the Stars” energy. Good heavens, she sighed, you wake the woman up like she’s a medical mannequin. Give her space. She’s processing. Meanwhile I’m still half-asleep, blinking at four dead people analyzing my organs like a celestial focus group. Cat flopped on the edge of my bed, brushing her dark hair out of her face. I mean, she continued thoughtfully, if your muscles are tight, that’s unresolved emotions. Like when I was alive and my ex texted me ‘k’ instead of ‘okay.’ Instant shoulder tension. She rubbed her own ghostly shoulders for emphasis. Textual trauma. Joe raised his hand like he was in homeroom So what about headaches? ’Cause I had a few of those before I kicked the bucket. Sally offered him a dry look that could peel wallpaper Head sensations, Joseph, come from overthinking. Frustration. Anger. Also poor hydration but that ship has sailed for you, darling. Donna snorted. Cat whispered get roasted under her breath. Then Donna cupped her cheeks tenderly Shame lives here, she said, tapping under her eyes. Isn’t that sad? Our poor little faces trying to hide like Adam and Eve behind a ficus tree. Cat nodded solemnly Shame’s a face demon. I groaned into my pillow Oh my God… Joe added Chest = feelings. Stomach = intuition. Head = chaos. Face = Adam and Eve guilt. Got it, I muttered. They all looked pleased with themselves, like I’d passed a test I never signed up for. But then—Sally softened. She floated a little closer, arms gently crossed, voice warm but firm. Darling, she said, your body gives signals. It doesn’t label. It whispers. And the Holy Spirit… helps you interpret what you can’t yet name. The room quieted. Cat finally stopped poking my abdominal chakra. Sally tilted her head at me, studying me with that sharp, loving, deeply-annoying wisdom of hers. I’ve watched you in session, she said. I’ve seen how you help souls find the words their bodies couldn’t. You’re doing very good work. A pause. A small smile. A lifted brow. Keep going. And right when my eyes actually filled with tears, the bedroom door rattled-- Coco, furious at being locked out, letting out a full-throated MRAAAAW. Sally sighed Well. That’s your stomach sensation sorted. Fear. I couldn’t sleep. My brain was running through newsletter ideas like a hamster on a wheel—only louder, faster, and with more disco lights.
And then, of course, they showed up. Coco warned me by flopping onto my chest, tail flicking judgmentally. Sally floated in, arms crossed, eyes twinkling, and that grin that warned chaos was coming Ah, finally awake. Perfect. Class is in session. Today’s topic: animals. Chaos incarnate in fur and feathers I rubbed my eyes Sally… I was just trying to… plan my newsletter… Planning, darling? Pfft. Newsletters are fine, but knowledge of the animal kingdom is essential for ghostly survival Joe rolled in like a confused puppy Uh… dogs are loyal, right? Yes, Joseph, and loyal is nice… but add a touch of mischief, and you get real chaos Cat muttered, (hoodie still off!) Low-key, this is about me surviving y’all, not biology class Nonsense, darling. Biology is spiritual warfare in fur coats. Now, listen closely. Cats? Masters of terror with style. Hamsters? Tiny tyrants with wheels of doom. Parrots? Gossip machines that never forget. Ferrets? Optional, but highly recommended if you want humility through property theft. Dogs? Sweet, but capable of destroying shoes and egos in equal measure Coco hissed in agreement at a ghostly squirrel passing by the window. Joe tried to take notes but his ghostly self kept sinking through the furniture And birds! Flap your wings, steal your breakfast, and somehow still look adorable. Never underestimate the power of cute chaos I groaned, holding my head I was literally just trying to figure my newsletter… Exactly, darling. Observe, record, survive. And maybe sneak in a moral lesson or two. Chaos and newsletters? Symbiotic Cat rolled her eyes again Miss Sally vibes. 10/10 would survive apocalypse alone And just when I thought I could finally breathe, Catalina’s dog barreled in, tail wagging like a hurricane, leaping straight into her arms. Catalina’s eyes went wide, a huge smile spreading across her face OH MY GOSH…YOU MADE IT! Coco hissed 3AM. I awoke to a soft hand petting Coco on my chest.
I blinked, still half in dreams, and saw Catalina sitting at the edge of the bed, hoodie off for the first time. Her dark hair fell softly around her face, braided at the edges in delicate twists that caught the moonlight, highlighting her rich complexion. And I noticed those ruby-red lips, and her big, sad eyes that always seemed to hold more than they let on. It didn’t work, she whispered, voice soft as a feather. I sat up. Didn’t work, sweetheart? What didn’t work? She let out a tiny sigh, tilting her head. Halloween. I tried scaring my friends, but… they just weren’t scared. They didn’t notice. Nothing fazed them. Candles flickering, tarot cards spread out, pendulums swinging, sage smoke curling everywhere… I was moving left, right, left, right, trying to catch their attention, trying to say hello. But they were so wrapped up in it all, so deep in the vibe and the rituals, that they didn’t see me at all. It was all part of the Halloween package to them — lights, smoke, cards, candles — but they didn’t see me. I reached out, gently brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. Cat, think about how much energy you put into that. All of it came from love. That’s what matters. You shared your energy, your fun, your light. One day, they’ll notice. I promise. She nodded slowly, still watching Coco curl up next to me. I don’t want them to forget me. I just… I want God to help me make them really feel SOMETHING. Love, I guess. That’s all I want. And, high key, I refuse to TURN MY ENERGY INTO A DUMB BUTTERFLY! I smiled. Welp, honey, sometimes butterflies DO resonate. But I understand. Really, you’ve got all you need, Cat. Love. Love is what you feel in your heart. That’s where God lives. That’s where your energy is now, always. You’re already touching them, even if they don’t recognize it yet. Just then, the faint click of heels and a shuffle of feet announced Joe and Donna entering. Catalina rolled her eyes so hard I thought they might spin out of her head. Joe shuffled a little, looking completely lost. Donna smiled. Sally floated in behind them, arms crossed and eyes twinkling. Well, well, well. If it isn’t chaos in sneakers. I see you’re all awake… I gave her my best don't push it look. Sally… Cat needed my undivided attention. So if we could keep the chaos to a manageable level for a few minutes, that would be lovely. Sally huffed, her lips twitching, Maybelline thick and proud. Fine. But remember, darling, a good spirit keeps life interesting. Hide their car keys, have them open the fridge five times… and on the sixth time, miracle of miracles, the milk is back in its place. Chaos isn't art form, but teaching is divine. Coco hissed playfully, like he agreed wholeheartedly. And just like that, the room hummed with love, laughter, and enough mischief to last… at least until next week! Sally. Perfectly sideways, shoulders shifting, pearls glowing just enough to make me dizzy. You can’t see behind me. You can’t see this way. You can’t see behind me, she sang, tilting side to side like a catwalk instructor with a vendetta.
I squinted. Something was moving. Voices? Footsteps? I couldn’t tell. Coco hissed and puffed his tail into an electric storm. Cat’s hoodie slipped a bit from her face, and she leaned forward, eyes narrowing. Ex-husband D, she muttered. Or ex-husbandy. Pick a numb-burrr!! Sally turned sharply, finger wagging. Listen here, young hoodied one — I’ve survived ex-husbands. I’m not counting exactly how many, because who needs numbers when you’re schooling idiots like you? Joe blinked. Sally! I scolded. Cat muttered, Wifey… seriously. Sally puffed her phantom cigarette dramatically, gaze sweeping over us all. And now you. Floating, thinking, maybe, just maybe… some rules apply. But no! Heaven isn’t for paperwork! It’s for cosmic justice, floating wardrobes, and learning that love — married, divorced, ghosted, or otherwise — comes with new upgrades! I tried to nod. Coco hissed again. Somewhere behind Sally… I swear I heard faint groans of ex-husbands past. Sally leaned closer, eyes twinkling with that judging-but-loved energy. So relax, sweethearts — here in heaven, no one owes anyone an apology. And just like that, something shifted behind Sally. Coco bolted upright, claws extended. Cat’s eyes widen so fast I thought they might pop out of her hoodie. Low-key… glad I died young, she muttered in that deadpan, Gen Z drawl. Skipped all the messy divorces and ex-husband drama. 10/10 would recommend... Cat! I snapped. Joe shuffled a little, looking completely lost, until Donna reached over and gently grabbed his hand. He gave a small, sheepish grin. Thanks, he whispered. Sally let out a satisfied huff, one eyebrow arched, and turned back to us: You're never too alive – or too dead – to know better. Now behave! And just like that, she stomped off – heels clicking – into what looked like a casino room made entirely of glitter, laughter, and possibly several very confused men. Coco hissed, Catalina muttered something about peak chaos, and I just sighed, knowing full well that Heaven had officially gotten louder, funnier, and infinitely cooler. A few nights passed with THE BEST sleep - until it wasn’t. Fresh off a dream, I noticed Coco laying peacefully next to me.
I glanced up—and there was Joe, squinting at me from the corner like a kid caught sneaking cookies… Joe sidled up to Donna. So… he started… She looked back at him, pastel cardigan floating. He continued, Does this mean we’re still… married? Like, in the old-earth sense? Donna blinked, looked toward Sally, then to Cat, then me. I… thought we were divorced when I checked out. But now… She lifted a hand, mid-float. Now I’m here. And you’re here… Sally tapped her phantom cigarette. Marriage in heaven? Let’s just say: the rules changed. On earth, you two were spouses; here, you’re both part of something bigger. The how and what are fuzzy. “When the dead rise, they will neither marry nor be given in marriage; they will be like the angels in heaven” (Mark 12:25, ESV). Cat smirked: Welcome to the upgrade. You really think it's a good idea, letting our daughter date HIM? Joe's voice was sharp, low, like he'd been holding it in for a week. Or years. Donna, arms crossed, He's a nice guy, Joe. Why do you always have to find something wrong? I'm not saying he's a bad guy! I just… I don't know. Something about him rubs me the wrong way. Donna rolled her eyes. Does he remind you of someone, Joseph? Maybe you should get to know him instead of judging from the sidelines. Joe looked down at his feet, shuffled them, and then planted them deliberately, as if drawing a line in the sand. He raised his hands, palms out, pointing to his own invisible stage. Do you see my freaking SIDELINE?! He stepped sideways, squinting at the imaginary boundary, then did a little half-spin, like testing the limits of his celestial domain. This is it! This is all I got! Before I could even catch my breath, Sally straightened—chin up, pearls glowing like LED lights—and looked over her shoulder. I could swear I heard something behind her. Voices maybe. A few whispers. Laughter. The soft shuffle of more feet. I craned my neck to peek, but she shifted perfectly sideways, blocking my view. Then she did it again. Step left, shimmy right—like a Victorian linebacker. Umm, Sally? I tried. Without missing a beat, she sang out, You can’t see behind me. You can’t see this way. You can’t see behind me. It was practically a jingle. That’s when Coco sat bolt upright, eyes fixed on whatever Sally was gatekeeping. Her tail puffed up like static electricity and she hissed… at heaven. Sally sighed dramatically. For heaven’s sake, control your feline. Some of us are trying to maintain dimensional decorum. Joe blinked. Did she just say dimensional decorum? She sure did, Donna giggled. Cat grinned, hoodie sliding down one shoulder: Etiquette! And just like that, Sally gave me a knowing smirk—the kind that says this is going to be weird. —- Click… click… click.
The sound of heels echoed through the room. I froze. Just the toe of a nude-colored Guess heel appeared first-- My eyes traveled up. Past the ankle, the calf, the cream cardigan that floated on tiny shoulders - and there she was. Donna. Blonde bob with bangs, glasses sliding slightly down her nose, round face that didn’t need makeup but looked like it got it anyway. She blinked rapidly, like someone had thrown a flashlight in her eyes. This isn’t the restaurant, she muttered. Her voice shook… but not really. Then she tried to take a breath, to speak, and realized she couldn’t choke, couldn’t cough, couldn’t even make a sound. Oh… my… gosh, she finally managed to pant silently, hands clutching her chest as if someone had switched her body with a balloon. From the ceiling fan, Catalina dangled upside down like a glow-in-the-dark bat. Yeah, she said flatly, you’re literally floating. Donna looked down—her feet weren’t touching the floor. Oh my gosh. She gasped, trying to stabilize herself. Wait. Am I…? Sally materialized behind her, hands on hips, robe shimmering like glitter fog. Dead? Darling, only technically. Donna swiveled to me. Do I know you? Nope, I said. But I think I know YOU. Something in her face softened—a warm smile that felt like sunlight through kitchen curtains. I saw a light, she said quietly. It was… bright. I just… came toward it. Then Donna pressed her hands to her forehead, eyes closed. Wait… holy crap. Am I in the foyer? The hallway? WHO’S IN CHARGE HERE? And why does it smell like…BEER? Behind her, Joe whimpered. Told you she’d find me. Sally sighed. For heaven’s sake, Joseph, she’s your wife, not the IRS. Wifey X, Cat sing-songed, dragging the X just long enough to make Joe wince. Donna looked over her shoulder, eyes widening. Joe? He gave a tiny wave from the corner, still crouched. Hey, Don. For a moment, the room went still. Then Donna blinked and said, Last thing I remember was dinner. Somebody’s birthday. I laughed too hard, choked on a piece of steak, next thing I know - I’m in a hospital and— she stopped. I swear I saw you there, Joe. And now… Joe cleared his throat. Huh. I thought you were, you know…VEGAN? With a grin, I happily cut in, Welp, now you’re both here! Oh no, HELL IS REAL… Donna cried out, eyes darting downward. Whoa…feels so light…so strange…she murmured. And here I was thinking hell was supposed to be, you know, hot. Cat swung upright and nodded. Yeah, well. Welcome to the cloud version of yourself. Joe squinted his eyes at me, This IS Heaven, right? Yes?? Sally clapped her hands. Marvelous! I do love a reunion episode! And darling, Welcome to Heaven! God’s World! The UMPTH dimension! Hell? Not a blinking Walmart. More like a cosmic…teaching moment. And just like that, Donna smiled again—small, nervous, but radiant. Guess we’re doing this, she said. The next morning, my sage stick was down to a nub and Joe was still missing—if his ex really crossed over last night, she apparently brought luggage.
Sally was pacing in her mumu like a director whose leading man hadn’t shown up for curtain call. Darling, she said, hands on hips, if Joe’s hiding from Donna, I don’t blame him. That woman could argue with a mirror and lose gracefully. Cat, sitting cross-legged midair (apparently gravity is optional), blew a slow bubble. He told me stuff about her last week, she said, the gum snapping sharp. Said Donna stopped believing in God after everything went wrong. Said she doesn’t believe in anything now. Like, she’s spiritually… logged out. Sally gasped. Logged out?! You mean she’s unsubscribed from the Almighty? Cat nodded. Pretty much. She said when life kept glitching, she just hit ‘delete account.’ I snorted coffee through my nose. Okay, that’s tragic - and - a little bit iconic. Sally wagged her cigarette. Darling, she’s not faithless—she’s just on hold with Heaven’s customer service. You know: ‘Your redemption is very important to us, please stay on the line.’ Cat cackled so hard her hoodie strings fell completely loose. For the first time, I saw her whole smile—wide, luminous, almost mischievous. Can’t wait to meet this Donna. She sounds like she’d fight the angels for a refund. The lights flickered once, twice. Sally froze mid-laugh. Careful what you wish for, darling. And somewhere in the corner, faint as breath on glass… I swear I heard heels. Just before dawn, Coco licked my arm like a furry alarm clock. I thought, Finally! A full night's sleep! Nope. I cracked my eyes open, and there was Joe in the corner… on his knees - praying.
Before I could even process, Catalina popped in, hoodie up, chewing gum and smirking, One word: Wifey. From the rafters, Sally floated down like a bathrobe model, her voice carrying, Ex-wife, darling. Ex. Wife. I sat up, Oh no. What's going on? Sally didn't miss a beat. She called over to Joe - Hey! You praying she's coming or staying? Or is this another hangover kneel down? Joe looked up, face red but smiling. No, no… I want her to stay. Real love. I get it now. Cat rolled her eyes while leaning against the wall, unimpressed: Wholesome. Very Hallmark. Joe sat up, dusted off his jeans, and told us his ex-wife has been sick. His daughter’s been there for her, and he's so proud. His voice broke a little – She doesn't deserve this and my daughter doesn't deserve more pain either. Then the panic hit. Wait… what if she shows up here? How do I look? Will she recognize me? Do I look… eternal? Sally chuckled. You look like a man who still owes me rent. Cat snorted. Bro, you're giving divorced dad energy, not eternal. We laughed - and with the mood a bit lighter, Cat looked at her fingernails: I need mine done. Like… Yesterday. Can I even do that here? I raised an eyebrow. Can you? Sally floated lower, wagging her finger dramatically. Darling, you can do anything in God’s Energy. But also…you can do anything in the living if you put your mind to it. Spirit or Earth, same rules apply. Which of course, made everyone look straight at my nails. I shoved my hands under the covers. Don't look at me! One broke yesterday. Not the point. Joe turned back around and dropped down on his knees again, like he hadn't heard a word we said. Hands folded, head bowed, muttering away in the corner. Never wanting to miss a chance, Sally called out: While you're at it, throw in a prayer that this boa never sheds. Feathers are impossible to vacuum in the afterlife. Cat pointed and mouthed to us, Wifey, again. Then giggled. I looked at Sally: Hey. While you’re here, well, I’ve been meaning to ask - am I even in the right job still? Should I… I don't know… just get a “normal” job? Marketing or grocery store? Sally wildly gasped! Darling! You’d cause a blackout the moment you scanned a can of peas! You’d last TWO DAYS before HR wrote you up for “excessive ghost activity”. Every lost soul within a mile will RSVP to haunt your kitchen… Okay! I laughed. I get it, I get it. Sally continued, It's a gift to go with your Gift. Never forget that. Cat, now crunching on an invisible chocolate chip cookie, shrugged and added, Low-key, if you got a normal job, you'd still be weird. We all turned back back to the corner of the room where we caught site of Joe, now gazing in the mirror. He leaned in, rubbed his chin, and muttered, If she comes… I'm growing my hair back. Full head, baby. Just wait. Then he licked his fingers and used them to slick his ghostly eyebrows, puffed out his chest, and tried a little smolder, Yeah… yeah, she'll remember this face. Cat groaned, Joseph…you’re giving delulu. Joe flexed once, then grinned at himself. Maybe I should get abs again, too. Does Heaven have a gym? Sally laughed, Darling, if Heaven had a gym, I would’ve never signed up. She took a delicate puff of her long phantom cigarette and blew the smoke straight at Joe. Cat rolled her eyes again, Besty, she is not pulling up to Heaven for your overgrown six pack. Be so for real. Then she tugged her hoodie strings so tight only her eyes showed, gave me one last mischievous side-eye, and…blink. They were gone. The room fell silent. I lay there in the dark, one broken nail still hidden under the covers, wondering if I had dreamt it all. I said a prayer for Joe's ex-wife. And Coco started her morning meow for food… Just after midnight this week, I was jolted awake by Coco slamming into my back. And then my ears rang with lots of sounds. Joe, Sally, and Catalina had decided to throw me an early birthday party.
(Apparently, time zones don't apply in the afterlife.) Joe, with his Pabst Blue Ribbon energy and fisherman's grin, was puffing invisible balloons into the air. But before he could tie one off, Sally swooped in, boa trailing, cigarette perched at the end of one of those possibly long holders. Pop! Pop! Pop! went the balloons. Oh Joseph, darling, she crackled, You blow them up, I'll take them down. It's called balance. Catalina, hoodie pulled tight, suddenly pulled out a kazoo and blue one long squeaky note. I groaned, You know my birthday isn't until Friday, right? Joe just chuckled and said, When you're dead, there's no clock to punch. Early is better than late! Then he looked at me squarely, almost fatherly: You're almost my age now, kid. 55 – I was 58 when I went. Let me tell you something, every breath of air you take? That's a gift. I still remember the way the water smelled when I was fishing. Don't you forget it. I sat up a little straighter. He was right. Sally twirled in the corner, dramatic as always. Well, darling, I was blessed with almost 80 years of life, and I cherished every… 98. Catalina cut in flatly without looking up. Sally gasped, feathers flying. How dare you say that number out loud! Honestly, children today have no sense of mystery! We all cracked up. Catalina just smirked. Then Sally, in one of her rare but wonderful turns of seriousness, lifted her chin and gave me the look. Listen here, birthday girl. None of us are promised a certain number. Milestones are just mile markers – they don't guarantee the road. Life is good if you stay in your lane, and if God tells you to switch lanes, you switch. Numbers don't matter. Levels do. Think of it like that silly little Mario game – every level, new colors, new characters, new meaning. And yes, sometimes you run out of lives, but the story doesn't end. Not really. Because darling… She leaned close, her boa brushing my arm, we are still alive, even when our bodies quit. Life continues, here, there, and everywhere in between. Now that is worth celebrating. I couldn't argue. And maybe that's the reminder I needed before my double nickel's birthday: We're not meant to carry the weight of every number, every milestone, or every worry. We're meant to breathe, to live, to love – one level at a time. Sally gave a dramatic sprinkle of birthday confetti, and whispered, And before you blow out those imaginary candles, your son Cameron says happy birthday. I smiled, You know he's invisible, right? Oh darling, Sally replied with a wink, invisibility doesn't mean absence. So, happy birthday to my fellow virgos! Happy belated to my little brother Tommy! On Friday I won’t be available. THIS girl is planning to lay on her bedroom floor, turn off the world, light up some incense and a candle, and play the entire box set of Foreigner. Maybe sprinkle in a bit of Ozzy too. Because I can. xo Coco shifted at the end of the bed, his little cat weight pressing against my feet. Or, big cat weight. Half asleep, I stretched out, and my leg brushed against him. Before I knew it, I heard someone shout, Don't hit Coco!
I startled awake, rolled onto my back – and there they were. My crew. Joe, Catalina, and Sally, shining like stars in the dark corners of my bedroom. I just smiled and sank deeper into my pillow. Joe was the first to speak, of course. He chuckled and said, That post you made the other day – about you being hired for funerals with a white flag? Funniest damn thing I ever read. I swear, I wish you'd been at mine. My ex walked in and – man, you would've been waving that flag so hard you'd have gotten a standing ovation. Before I could respond, Sally swirled her shawl dramatically and jumped in. Fanfare at funerals! she declared like she was on a stage. I'm telling you, we need trumpets, feathers, confetti – oh, and sequence! A little razzle dazzle while the preacher drones on. Give them a show! Joe laughed so hard I thought he'd fall off his invisible, ripped up, leather La-Z-Boy. Lord help us, Sally, if you're in charge of funerals, we’ll need earplugs and sunglasses. As they went back-and-forth, I noticed Catalina hadn't said a word. She had her hoodie pulled tight, her face shadowed. And then, softly, she whispered from under the hood, I didn't have any fanfare when I died. The room froze. Even Sally's bangles went quiet. Joe finally broke the silence, gently, Sure you did, kid. All those flowers and crosses on the road side. People remembered. Catalina shook her head quickly, eyes flashing. No. No, that doesn't count. I hate those. They're just distractions – someone's gonna crash looking at them, and then it's another accident. I don't want anyone else hurt. For the first time, her voice wasn't sarcastic, wasn't distant. It was raw. Honest. And it left all of us speechless. Sally floated closer, unusually tender, her sharp edges softened. She touched Catalina's shoulder lightly, like a mother smoothing a wrinkle. Honey, she said, sometimes the greatest fanfare isn't what's outside – it's what's inside. The love they carried for you… that never needed a trumpet. Catalina didn't reply at first. She just sunk deeper into her hoodie. The room was thick with silence. Then, just when I thought she might actually cry, she muttered, Anyway… can we not? Like – next subject. Joe smirked. Sally rolled her eyes with mock drama. And just when the heaviness felt too much, Catalina popped her head out just enough to add, That was low-key cringe, you guys. We all laughed, not at her, but with her. Seriousness tucked back into her hood, the moment was safe again. I closed my eyes, the emotion of it all still lingering. Coco huddled at my feet, grounding me in the here/now. That's how it always is during these evenings of mine – half laughter, half heartache. A little white flag for the truth, and always, always love in the room. I sat staring at the blank page, fingers frozen over the keyboard. Before I could even sigh, Coco leapt up and planted himself squarely on my laptop, his tail swishing over the keys.
Coco! I groaned, nudging him off. Well, well, look who’s decided to write again! Didn’t think you had it in you. I jumped. There was Sally, tossing her wild white curls. I rolled my eyes, Can I at least get a minute of silence before the peanut gallery shows up? Sally, in her usual flamboyant style, wiggled her eyebrows and tapped an invisible cigarette. Darling, I’ve seen snails with more ambition. But fine, we’ll watch. Don’t get too smug. From behind me, Joe leaned over my shoulder, squinting at the screen. You type slower than my ex-wife’s lawyer, he muttered. Seriously? I asked. Then, a tiny feather floated down, landing softly on the bed. Cat—or Catalina, as she insisted—tugged her hoodie tight like she was trying to disappear into it, stared at the feather - and my writing - and shook her head. Bruh… tea has never been clocked like this before. But seriously? A feather? That’s…kinda aesthetic though. She flopped onto the bed dramatically, scrolling an invisible phone. It’s giving… ‘you’re writing again, big yawn.’ But also cute, I guess. Sally cackled so hard she nearly fell out of her invisible armchair. Clocked! Oh darling, I love it. I’m going to start saying that at bridge – You’ve been clocked! Please don’t, Joe grumbled. One of us using the kids’ lingo is enough. I mean, Cat said, pointing to the feather like it was a museum piece, it’s technically a vibe. Vibe?! Sally erupted, throwing her invisible hands in the air. Back in my day, we called that ‘messing with the living.’ But, sure, vibe works. I laughed, shaking my head at them. You guys are impossible. And yet, irresistible, Joe said, a small smile tugging at his lips. Cat snorted. Yeah, like clockwork. Can’t escape us. Hoodie power! Sally winked. And I’ll be here, darling, with all the punchlines you forgot to put in. You’re welcome in advance. I smiled. Maybe writing wasn’t so lonely after all - with a sarcastic senior, an emo hoodie-clad teen, and a feather-throwing dad hovering over me, impossibly and irresistibly. It's the middle of the night, and Coco is the first to wake me up – purring and stretching across my chest, knocking blankets off in the process. When he climbs over, I know it's not just me awake tonight.
The crew’s coming. Before I can even turn over, Cat slides onto the bed with a smile, like she’s been patiently waiting all night. I grab my phone to check the time but the screen is glitching – blinking fast, like a budget disco. Cat flashes me an excited look that says, This is a ghost problem, and I'm the specialist. Eyes locked on the flickering screen, seemingly excited she can “do this” to a cell phone - she screeches, Ghost in the machine, fr fr! Joe appears in socks and sandals, scratching his beard like he’s readying to fix the old rabbit ears on the TV. Back in my day, we banged on the set til it behaved. Sally exhales dramatically, sequin robe catching the moonlight. Oh Joe… if you handled your marriage like you handled a TV, you might still get reception at home. Blows on her long nails. Cat pulls her hoodie tighter, peeking at my phone like it's a patient in the ER. No cap, this tech’s cursed AF. But I got you fam. (Under her breath, Wish I had this effect on the living, sometimes.) Don’t worry, just gotta tweak the flux capacitor, add some jazz hands… She waves a hand over my phone like she's casting a spell, and tiny sparkles dance from her fingertips. Cat: Learned that from this prehistoric movie – Son-in-Law. Ever heard of it? Joe's whole face softens. Heard of it? My daughter and I must've watched that 100 times. She quoted every line. She – – – His voice catches. He clears his throat, tries for a smirk. Anyway… still a classic. Sally gives him a quick glance, then flicks her hair. Adorable. Precious even. Now let's move along before I get a whiff of how I died. The phone blinks once… twice… then comes back to life. Cat grins, Spectral reboot complete! I roll my eyes while giggling. Thanks, team. Sleep now? Joe’s slow grin spreads. Cowabunga! Dead silence. Catalina whispers, Oh my God. Sally: Don’t encourage him. I put the phone down, closing my eyes, knowing I'm never really alone. And honestly? I wouldn't want it any other way. |
Medium DiairesThe nightly visitors I write about in my newsletter every week, now all in one space! Enjoy! Medium Diaries Index
August 6, 2025 #howitstarted August 13, 2025 #youcantmakethiss*#up September 1, 2025 #feathers September 10, 2025 #whiteflag September 17, 2025 #birthday September 24, 2025 #itsagift October 8, 2025 #heels October 15, 2025 #hidonna October 22, 2025 #welcometotheupgrade October 29, 2025 #peakchaos November 5, 2025 #hidetheircarkeys November 12, 2025 #doggie November 19, 2025 #adamandeve December 4, 2025 #holyclarity December 10, 2025 #nudgejobs December 17, 2025 #joecamealone January 7, 2026 #holypearls January 14, 2026 #vintagelionel January 21, 2026 #distresseddenim January 28, 2026 #ismybestfriend February 4, 2026 #aftercrossingover Categories |
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