Last week I shared with you my brush with the supernatural. After that day, I always made sure my car was locked and the hair dryer was unplugged because I really wanted to believe that both of those incidents could be explained…somehow.  Fortunately, I made it many more years without any issues other than my sixth sense.

Then about 6 years later I was back from Colorado visiting family.  My hubby, two oldest girls and I were staying with my parents while we were there.  My girls were about 2 years old and 6 months.  One afternoon, when everyone was at work Andy went to see his mom while I put the girls down for a nap and did some laundry.

After a couple of hours Andy called to check in and said he was heading back in just a few minutes.  It’s important to note that his drive would be no more than 10 minutes.  I told him the girls were still sleeping so I would wait a few minutes and then I was going to hop in the shower.

I gathered everything for my shower and checked on the girls.  They were still sound asleep so I closed the door to their bedroom and walked across the hall to the bathroom.  I turned the shower on to let the water heat up and shut the door thinking Andy would be there any moment.

The lock on the bathroom door was perpetually in the locked position due to the constant abuse it took from my sisters and me while growing up.  We were always shaking the handle until we could break into the bathroom regardless of who was in there taking a shower.  You really can’t have any privacy when you share a bathroom with sisters.  Someone always needs to be in there the moment you get in the shower.

So, when after a few minutes of being in the shower I heard someone pounding on the door I wasn’t alarmed.  Besides Andy said he was on his way.

I yelled, “hey, I just hopped in.  Come on in.”

 

Silence.

 

Then more pounding on the door.

More pounding.

Now my heart was starting to beat faster.  Andy knows how to break into the bathroom. Why wasn’t he just coming in?  Why wasn’t he responding to me?  Why was he just pounding on the bathroom door over and over?

I didn’t know what was happening, but my babies were asleep across the hall and something wasn’t right.  I left the water running, stepped out of the shower, grabbed the towel and yanked open the bathroom door.

There was nobody there.  I ran across the hall and swung open the bedroom door where my girls had been sleeping.  Sydney, the 6-month-old, was standing up in her crib looking away from me laughing and cooing as if someone was entertaining her and my two-year-old was pointing in the same direction telling me something was funny. Nobody was in the room.  I opened the closet, looked under the bed.  Nothing. I picked both of my girls up and ran to my parents’ room to look out that infamous window to see if Andy’s car was in the drive.  He wasn’t there.  I ran back to the bedroom with my girls and called Andy.  He was still at his mom’s house.  By this time I was crying.  Who had been knocking on the door?  Was there someone in the house?  Andy said he would be there in 10 minutes.

I sat in the bedroom with my girls staring at the hall until Andy arrived.  He checked the entire house and found nothing.  He couldn’t explain what had happened, but offered that perhaps it was the pipes making noises.

I had spent the better part of my life in that bathroom listening to my sisters pound on that door.  I knew what I heard and someone was knocking on the bathroom door.

I explained what had happened to my family when they arrived home that evening.  My sisters were fascinated and believed we had a ghost amongst us.  They were practically giddy thinking about it.  I, on the other hand, was the one being haunted and just wanted it to stop.

I remember that same evening rocking Sydney to sleep downstairs.  I could see much of the house from this little corner of the living room and I was so terrified that the photos were going to fall off the wall or I was going to see an apparition.  I told G and she literally told me to just open myself up to the possibility that someone “beyond” was trying to talk to me.  She thought maybe someone just wanted me to know that they were there.   I didn’t want anyone to be there and I certainly didn’t want to “see” anything that wasn’t supposed to be there.  I had babies to protect and I didn’t have time to ward off ghosts or play medium for them.  So, I did what any mature mother of two would do.  I turned the rocking chair around, stared at the wall and repeated over and over, “do not show yourself to me.  I cannot handle it.”

Tune in next week to see what happened next.