It’s a hot day today – and I was looking for a way to play with water while still being productive-ish. (I’ve been on a bit of a cleaning kick). So I pulled the two large rugs onto saw-horses and I have been washing them today.  Goal achieved – 1 hour of scrubbing, and hours and hours of spraying it down – messily – to rinse.

Yes, It’s a good way to say cool.  Two days to dry and I can lay them down on the waxed floors. … Well, maybe spray it down a few more times ’cause the heat is still building.

Today – Tuesday, Aug 7th prompt is “each living person is assigned the dead to watch over them”.

I’ve been letting this prompt perculate as my hands have been busy.

I’ve alot of dead.

We are the result of hundreds of ancesters; we all have alot of dead. Many cultures believe their ancesters actively watch over them.  Some believe gaurdian angels are loeved ones that passed on. So, where does this lead me?

I met a medium on a Salem Ghost tour  six years ago; she volunteered that I have two gaurdians attached to me – a tiny female (described very much like my Great Aunt Etta) and a very large male she said was named Maxx  (she stressed the two X’s).

I don’t think I’ve known any Maxx; but that’ not to say we have the same name when we pass over. After all, if you believe in life before birth – and I do – than we had a name before our parents gave us one … or two. In fact, the description she gave really favored an friend of my brothers, one who called me “little sis” and had recently died.

If Maxx was John, I’m at a loss as to why he chose me – he had a widow & children. Why shodow an unofficial sister.

Of course this is pure conjecture; they may or may not be there.

And what of my hubby – passed eight years ago? I like to think he isn’t hanging around; he wanted to explore Alaska before he died and didn’t. I like o hope he got a chance after.  And there are his grandchildren – who he adored; I like to think their Pop Pop still nurturing them.

But I do beleive that my cat. Moon Imbri, watches over me; I take this as truth. I can’t see him but I often feel his physical weight near me. It makes sense – when he was alive he seldom left my side (or I his), why would he let a small thing like physical death part us? We are soul-mates.

Tell me – of your dead – who would you want looking over you? Who do you think might be? And, if you don’t beleive hey are watching, where do you think they are?

I looked, but could not find a poem to play off this prompt …

which means I really need to write one.