A Visit from Lex
When I was four, I had my first paranormal experience. I didn’t find it unusual at all, since the spirit sitting in front of me, talking to me, was someone I knew and loved. It wasn’t scary or traumatic and I can’t say it influenced my life in any way other than to comfort me the night it happened and the next days to follow. Over the years, I’ve had myriad “spiritual” occurrences. They did not continue through my childhood or adolescence, but interestingly enough, began again the first time I attended the church I went to as a child. Jim and I felt it was time to raise our young children, who were less than one and four years old, in church like we both had been, and on that first visit, I had an odd welcome in the women’s restroom. I’ll be sharing these and many other stories, in my first book to be published in summer 2019.
For nearly 30 years I’ve had interesting, strange things happen, from unexplained objects moving, to fully formed apparitions touching or talking to me. It has almost become second nature when something unusual occasionally occurs, especially when it is some serendipitous moment that gives me joy. I’m amazed at the variety of ways loved ones (and complete strangers) have tried to get my attention. So when we buried our beloved chocolate lab Lexi, this summer, I was certain she would let us know she was still around. It was how she did it that still makes me shake my head.
As Jim and I got ready for bed that first night without Lexi sleeping on her own bed beside us, we were consoling each other. We were still in shock that only hours before, our hearts hadn’t yet been speared by her loss. Although there were two of us, the loneliness was palpatable.
“I wonder what Lex will do to let us know she is still here and still loves us? You know she will.” Jim agreed.
I almost expected something that first night, but we slept soundly. The second night, I was awakened from a deep sleep to the sound of voices. As I lie there, trying to cut through the fog in my brain, I was not yet aware of what was being said. I heard the words, but they did not register with me until I made it to the living room and saw light coming from inside my closed laptop computer.
. . . Jake did not realize he had made something from his mother’s wedding dress. If you are superstitious and like ghosts, then read (or watch) . . .
By the time I lifted the top of the computer, a new YouTube video was already playing. It was a little boy and his mother preparing food in their kitchen. I exited out of the YouTube website and turned the computer off. Stunned.
What? Are you kidding me? Lex, is that you?
By the time I realized there was no explanation for the computer going off in the middle of the night (it never had before and hasn’t since) while it was in sleep mode, I also realized it was no coincidence.
Loudly, I woke Jim from the living room, “My computer just went off for no reason! I know it is Lex!”
To her, I added, “Lex we love you, too. And we miss you. Thank you for being here.”
I went back to bed and Jim and I talked about it awhile, both agreeing it was her and it was a pretty sweet thing for her to do.
I have searched for the children’s book or movie trailer that had been playing on YouTube that night, to no avail. When I look at my YouTube history, nothing shows up.
Lex’s snoring still occasionally wakes me up, but it is those high-pitched barks that used to mean LET ME OUTSIDE NOW that startle me the most, because they penetrate my brain from outside my dreams, from somewhere inside the house, and are as ear-piercing as they ever were. I groggily smile and go back to sleep. It is a comfort, knowing love does not die.
