Better to be Haunted

 

It is nine years since Ruby died and her ghost is everywhere. 
Her nearly-hereness teeters just outside my route

and is a persistent hint of her presence without intrusion. 

Her essence is exactly that- an essential striation in everything I do and 

everything I think and everything I am and everything I will be and everything everywhere and forever. 

When I am about to forget just for a minute, she hints and I am so glad she does- 

by far I would rather be haunted, 

and have that hint of materialisation that affords me her nearness, nearer than you are, 

and I can drown in her, suffuse myself in my Ruby. I just wish her and she is here. 

And who can say this of their child- I can wish them into being- as I can? 

I am lucky- today I ran with her and we bought her favourite pasta and we cooked her favourite dinner together with the grated cheese the way she likes it

and I found one of her hairs but I didn't brush her hair and I moved her Lord of The Rings after blowing the dust off the top and I thought about her, I thought about her and I thought about her.

I thought about her but then I didn't think about her when I didn't need to because I wished her into being. 

And who can do that?