The Hippie went to a birthday party, one of those pleasant things where the kids giggle and sing tra-la-la. You should have seen her face as she skipped into that child's backyard. The family seemed extra nice, practically made of gold. They kept oohing and aahing over the children. They had cupcakes--real cupcakes--sitting in one of those fancy spinning holders.
So, when I left, I felt like The Hippie would be okay . . .
But when I drove to pick her up, I realized something was very VERY wrong! I should have known she'd take the invitation with her. I had no address, no phone number; all I had was a crappy post pregnancy-memory.
So, I drove around for awhile until finding the street the party was on. The two rows of houses loomed. I knew I could find the right house, if I just believed like Peter Pan. That's when I played eenie meenie miney moe. I didn't sing it or anything, I just played it. Too bad I couldn't remember all the words, and maybe that's why I showed up to the wrong house--who knows!
I knocked on the door. The house itself looked like a regular suburban unit. Pink and gray bricks stuck amongst gorgeous siding. The place was a mansion compared to where we live. That's why some of the decorations surprised me. A copper pentagram hung on the door. A strange wooden broom propped by the spiral-willow swing on the porch. The place had a dark foreboding to it, pulsing with witchcraft!
That's why I nearly screamed when the woman opened the door. She had the most beautiful silvery hair. Her eyes were an intense blue that sucked you in for several moments where you couldn't think of anything except their beauty. I noticed all this as a black cat walked across the porch.
I found a picture. It's not her, but at least it gives you an idea. I'd like to say the woman's nails were this long, but then I'd get struck by lightning and go to Hell. Let me say, her nails were half this long!
I stopped for a minute, still thinking about her eyes, the cat, and that strange copper pentagram hanging on the door. Had she just said, "Hell . . . O?"
"Ummm," I paused. I knew it was the wrong house, hoped it was the wrong house with all my soul. "Are you having a party here?"
"No, sweetheart. I'm not." She'd called me sweetheart! The whole thing made me feel like an extra in Arsenic and Old Lace (starring Cary Grant!) All the extras in that movie die!
I fumbled, like an idiot who faced death. "Well, this sure is a beautiful house you have here."
She smiled kindly--just like a witch would!
My voice faltered. "I feel like a big-fat waste of time. I'm worse than a solicitor. I don't even have something to sell to you."
She cackled. "Oh, dear. Everyone has something to offer."
What the Hell did that mean? I turned to leave.
"Are you all alone?" she asked.
"Well, I'm looking for my daughter."
"But you . . . you are all alone. Aren't you, darling?"
"I guess you could say that." Spiders practically ran up my arms and legs. I hate getting magical chills!
"Then won't you come in and join me. I'm all alone too. I'd love some company, especially from someone so . . . full . . . of life."
I raised my eyebrows. Full of life? Did she want to rip that life from me?
"I just made some lemonade?"
From magic? I wanted to ask, but didn't have the guts required for such a question.
"I love lemonade, but I'm really in quite a hurry."
"Well, do come back sometime, deary. I enjoy having visitors."
I walked away and the woman yelled after me. "Your daughter is two houses down." She pointed a long nailed finger.
Her comment made me fear worse than anything. She brimmed with magical capabilities. "How did you know that?" I asked.
The witch shocked me then, completely surprised me. She laughed. "I knew because I saw the children playing in the front yard. You didn't think I was a witch? Did you?"
So, as I picked up The Hippie, I thought about that silver-haired woman. Maybe she isn't a witch, but I still have my doubts!
Poor lady, maybe she just wanted some company!
Oh and on a side note, I've decided to have some guest interviews on my blog. I'll interview my brother, Grandma Gertie, The Scribe and The Hippie.
Do you have any questions you'd like to ask them?