Blessed Be Chapter 2 - First Responders

My life went on. I found my existential uncertainties resolved when my first daughter, April came into the world. My second daughter, Grace, 2 years later confirmed my reason for being. I made it through my 30's and I settled into my 40’s feeling better and more grateful about my life. 

During my most recent Spring-cleaning jag I moved my dresser and rediscovered the branch. I felt nostalgic about the New Moon Club and called the last cell phone number I had for Bea and smiled at the sound of her soothing voice when I got her voice mail greeting. I left a message about hoping to catch up with her some time. I dusted it off my wand and displayed it on my nightstand. A few days later April, now 12 years old, was sitting next to me on my bed. I was helping her review for a Social Studies midterm. She noticed the branch and said, “What is this?”

I told her, “Don’t touch that, it’s my magic wand.” I immediately felt a little embarrassed to say it out loud and just waited for her newly minted teen sarcasm to kick in. She picked it up anyway which mildly annoyed me.  It seems she never hesitated to try to commandeer my stuff as her own. I was waiting for her to ask her next favorite question, “Can I have it?”

She continued holding it oblivious to my demand to leave it alone. “Cool” she said and started making figure 8’s in the air with it. Our dog, Scout, walked into the room and when she pointed the stick directly at him he suddenly made an unusual dry heaving sound. It lightened the mood. We both started laughing that it must be a magic puke stick. She hopped up with it ready to try it out on her little sister. I said, “Don’t you dare! That thing could be dangerous! Put it back where it was!” and thankfully she did.

Truth be told at the time, my worst fear wasn’t that she was going to turn her sister into a toad but rather that the girls would get into a fight over the stick and I would end up having to break up another episode of girl drama chronicles. When she placed the wand back down in its place I immediately felt a sense of relief, thinking to myself, “Good, one less conflict to resolve before bedtime.”

Our dogs Scout and Tabby were aware of the change long before we were.  Their behavior changed almost immediately. Scout was a hyper vigilant beagle spaniel mixed breed always whining about something. If a bear or deer walked through our yard or people strolled by Scout would go nuts. He was the sentry of the house, hence his name. Tabby was a laid back German Shepard dog with the nonchalance of a house cat. She only barked when someone was actually on our doorstep or the wandering wildlife was munching our bushes or harassing our garbage cans. We never took Scout too seriously unless Tabby also joined in.

The morning after April “activated” the stick I noticed the dogs behaving strangely. The girls had just caught the school bus and I was getting ready for work. As usual the dogs trailed behind me through my morning ritual. I walked into my room after my shower and they tucked their tails between their legs and their fur fluffed up. The moment I opened my closet doors to survey my paltry wardrobe options they started a chorus of growling and whining. I thought perhaps our cat Nimbus was in there. But looking more closely I saw she was not.  I retrieved a blouse and pants and turned my back, walking across my room to grab some underwear and socks.  Behind me their whining turned to frantic barking and then suddenly stopped.  I turned back around to see them pointing at the closet like bird dogs. I checked for the cat again, pulling out the shoe boxes in my closet and moving the hanging clothes around to see if she was behind them some how. I did not see anything. I spoke to the dogs “See! Nothing in here, you guys better just cool it!” I patted their heads both to assure them and myself. As soon as I did they ran out of the room. I found them hiding in the basement and practically had to drag them back up the stairs. I returned my focus to the hurdles of getting out the door for the day and rationalized the whole thing away with the idea that maybe there had been a spider or other creepy crawly that got their prey drive up.

The usual after school routine was that April got off the bus and let herself in. I returned home a half-hour later with Grace. On that day as Grace and I walked through the door I was surprised to find that the dogs were not at the bottom of the stairs to greet me like they normally would be. This worried me. I called out to April and she did not answer me. This worried me even more. I ran up the stairs yelling “Hello! I’m home” but got no response. Suddenly I heard a slam from the direction of my bedroom. I told Grace to stay at the door and prepared my purse as a swinging weapon. The dogs and April were all sitting on the floor of my bedroom staring into my partially opened closet door. When I ran into the room they all turned their focus on me as if they were startled out of sleeping.

“Mom! You’re home.” April said in a happy voice. She stood up and gave me a big hug. The dogs ran up to me with their usual exuberance.

“What were you looking at in there?” I asked.

“What do you mean?” She asked. “I just got home.” 

“If you just got home, what were you doing since you got off the bus?” I said. I knew she had a bit of a crush on a boy down the street. I had caught her a couple times taking the long way home from the bus to walk passed his house.

She knew what I was asking without asking. “No, I walked straight home. Let out the dogs, let them back in and I was just about to get a snack like I always do.” Then she looked at my alarm clock and realized she had been home for over 30 minutes already. “It’s that late already?”

“Yes, it is. So what are you not telling me? I find you and the dogs staring into my closet. Are you playing some kind of trick on me? Don’t be pulling my leg, kid. You know if I catch you in a lie there is going to be in a lot of trouble for you.” I was masking my fear with anger.

I am pretty good at figuring out when my kids are telling a tall tale. Whatever they are hiding is given up on the least bit of inquisitive pressure. This time I didn't see any of the characteristic squirming or eye contact avoidance. She really had just lost a half hour of time. 

The whole thing was starting to freak me out a bit. I didn't say anything to her but she was basically doing the same thing the dogs were doing earlier that morning. Something in my closet had mesmerized them. If I spoke too much about it I would never get her to go to sleep tonight. I shrugged it off but planned to do a thorough inspection of the closet once the kids were occupied with something else. Just then Grace called to me.

“Mom, can I come in now?”

“Yes Honey, you can, come on in.”

She clomped up the stairs with her new clogs and dropped her stuff down on the kitchen floor.

“What’s going on Mom?” she said as she approached my room.

“Oh, nothing. You know how I don’t like you kids in my room. Well April was in there. Don’t you do the same, keep out of my room please, okay?” I pushed the bi-fold closet doors closed and shooed the whining dogs out of my room. I hoped the kids didn't notice the dogs acting so weird.

I locked my bedroom door to keep everyone out, including myself. We all went about our usual after school activities. I started browning meat for tacos. The girls settled into doing their homework. Once dinner was served and cleared up, the kids settled into their nightly ritual of watching Full House reruns on Netflix before bedtime. It seemed the time was right to set my focus on the closet.

I grabbed the skeleton key to open my door. Really it was no more than a wire with a loop. I fumbled a bit until the door lock popped. I grabbed the heavy emergency flashlight I kept in my bedroom dresser then opened the closet door. I pulled out everything from the floor of my closet and found only discarded shoes, a scarf I had been hunting for and some dust fur bunnies. It struck me that both April and the dogs were actually looking upward when I interrupting their staring. I sat on the floor and got my head to the height level of the dogs and then looked up. I saw that the small hatch door leading into the attic crawl space was partly open and a hint of light was shining through the crack of it. The next thing I knew Grace was in my face.

“Mommy, what are you looking at? I need you to braid my hair so it’s wavy tomorrow.” She looked up, froze and her mouth hung slack jawed. Right before my eyes I watched whatever was in the closet take her into the same trance that I had just gotten out of. 

I quickly closed the closet door and she startled back to the present moment.

“Sure Honey, lets do your hair in your room.” I said trying to sound composed. My heart was thumping in my chest. It thumped even more when I looked at my alarm clock and realized I had been frozen for 25 minutes. I slide a heavy trunk from the foot of my bed in front of the closet just because I didn't know what else to do.

Once I finished helping the kids to bed, I dialed my husband Jake. He travels out of state for work Monday through Friday. There were times that having him come and go was not so bad, but this was not one of those times. As the phone was ringing I walked outside on to the deck of our house even though it was only 30 degrees. I always heard that when something odd happens in your house you do not speak about it in the house unless you are addressing whatever that thing is directly. How did I explain this to him with out sounding crazy? I did my best to just describe what happened without sounding like a hysterical woman. I went over the details a couple of times with him because what I was saying just didn't make sense to him. I could hear a mix of fear and annoyance rising in his voice as he kept saying, “What do you mean?” “How can that be?”

“Well, just get everyone out of the fucking house and call the god dammed cops.” He yelled.

“Where am I supposed to bring them? What am I going to do with the dogs and cat? I guess I can call the cops but what are they going to do? That’s no fucking answer!” I started to cry and shiver. I reminded myself that I did not have the luxury of falling apart.

He heard me sniffling and knew sounding aggravated was not what I needed just then.  “I wish I was there.” He said more calmly.  We both knew the reality was I would have to hold down this fort at least for the next day or so. Even if he raced to the airport that second, he was 8 hours away by plane and the soonest flight scheduled wouldn't take off until mid afternoon the next day. I really was on my own at least for the moment. He was also under a tight production deadline and couldn't really say to his boss, “There is something lurking in my closet at home, I have to go rescue my wife.”

I pulled myself back into problem solving mode. “I’ll call the cops right now and call you back. It will be all right. I love you. Sorry for freaking out on you.” He said he loved me too and we hung up the phone.

I walked back into the house and checked on the kids who were fast to sleep. The dogs were sitting outside my locked bedroom door whining quietly. I went back out to the deck and dialed 911. I got the dispatcher and explained that I thought someone or something was in the crawl space of my attic and I was home alone with my kids. She pressed me for more details, the exchange went something like this - “Do you feel threatened ma’am?”

“Absolutely, that is why I am calling you.”

“Do you hear any noises coming from there?”

“No.”

“What makes you think something is up there?”

“The hatch is moved and I see light up there.”

“Could someone have left the light on up there?”

“No, there aren't any lights up in there, it’s just a crawl space. And the light that comes down isn't a normal light. It’s hard to explain.”

“Can you please try, Ma’am?”

“No I can’t really. It has to be seen. Please send at least two cops. They will need back up.”

“Why do you say that Ma’am?”

“They just will. Please just send someone here quickly.”

“Well the local police are off duty now. We will have to direct your call to the State Police. I can’t say how long it will be until they are there as they are handling actual emergencies.”

“This is an emergency! There is something in my house!” I started to get a bit frantic.

“Please stay calm ma’am.  You are seeing a light, correct? No one is threatening you. You haven’t actually heard an intruder. I need to prioritize this accordingly. I will send someone over as soon as someone is available. There was a big wreck off of I-81 tonight so it might be a while.”

“Thanks for nothing then!” I caught myself. “I’m sorry, I am just really scared. Please just have someone come when then can.”

“I will ma’am. If you hear anything or something happens, please call back. It’s probably just mice or something. Keep everyone out of that room.”

“Ok, thanks.” I hung up the phone. I went into the bedroom relieved to see the trunk was still in place and got the baseball bat my husband keeps under our bed. I locked up the bedroom door again.

I called back Jake. I relayed my conversation with 911. I told him my plan was to just sleep in the kids’ room with them. Keep the door locked and wait for the cops. He knew we really didn't have anywhere to go. Our families lived hours away, we didn't really have friends we could call upon to this level of need. It was a tight month, so we didn't have the money in the bank right now to cover the cost of a hotel room. Plus there weren't any local hotels that would allow the dogs. I tried to sound brave but he knew I was fronting. I told him I would call him back if anything else happened.

I sat in the hallway outside the girls rooms wrapped in a blanket with the baseball bat on my knees trying not to fall asleep. I did eventually despite my best efforts and woke up at 6AM with the doorbell. It was the chief of police, Officer Monroe. Officer Monroe is a portly fellow with a pragmatic no nonsense attitude to law enforcement. He sees his primary job as keeping the peace around here, not busting every infraction he can find. He has been at the job for over 30 years and will tell you that nothing surprises him. I felt relieved that he is the first to show up and not some State trooper I didn’t know or trust.

“Are you Janice Treemont?”

“Yes, I am.” I replied and opened up the door. “Please come in Sir.”

“So I hear someone in this house was cranking the 911 dispatcher last night. “ He said, “That is a serious misdemeanor Mrs. Treemont.”

“No, that was not a crank call. That was me. There is seriously something in my house. You need another officer here, if you look at it on your own you are going to freeze up.”

“What in God’s green hills are you talking about ma’am?”

“Ok, come and see. Watch what happens to me when I look into my closet.”

I unlocked the door with my hands shaking. I slid away the trunk from the closet.

“Now, don’t look up when I look up. Ok? Otherwise you’ll get stuck too. Just watch me looking up.” I looked up. The next thing I am aware of was my daughter calling my name and the squawk of the Chief’s walkie-talkie. He was shaking his head from side to side. I noticed 15 minutes had passed.

“See! I told you not to look up!” He didn’t believe me. “Ok, sir, once again, watch me and do not look in the closet.” I said trying to hold back my growing frustration. I looked up again and the next thing I heard was my other daughter yelling that there are two police cars out front of our house. Chief Monroe startled back to life too. He admitted that he saw me freeze that time but then couldn't help himself to look upwards again. 

As much as I was relieved that he believed me, it is pretty apparent to me the chief cop was not the sharpest knife in the drawer and very unlikely to actually help me solve this problem.

The doorbell rang and a voice crackled over from his walkie talkie,  “You in there Chief, need some help? “

“Pete, it’s the damnedest thing, come on in here.”

Officer Pete Mullens opened my front door and walked right in. I recognized him as one of the local kids soccer coaches and a bit of a "DILF" if you know what I mean. Being dressed like a cop just accentuated his hunkiness. “So what’s going on here?” he said. I absently smoothed out my hair and caught myself wondering what a night leaning on the walls of my hallway had done for my appearance.

“There is some kind of freeze ray coming out of this lady’s closet.” Monroe deadpanned in classic cop style. “Just go see for yourself. Check your watch before you go into the room.”

“Well Chief, it 6:45AM right now. You want me to go look in a closet?”

“Yes, take a look-see right up into the crawl space.”

“Is this some kind of jo….” He sentence is cut off as he turned slack jawed just like the rest of us. Though to our surprise just a few seconds into his trance he wet his pants and that was enough to startle him back.

“What the hell? Why am I wet all of a sudden? ” His ears reddened as he realized he had pissed himself.

“Ma’am could you demonstrate so that Officer Mullens can see what happens?”

“Sure, sir. Would you like a pair of my husband’s sweatpants?”

“Nay, I have a change of clothes in the car, happens all the time. But thanks Ma’am. Let’s just see this here.”

I walked passed him and glanced up. Before I go out I swear I saw the shape of a small round head and two red eyes. The head is moving back and forth as if to say “NO”. I am startled back by Pete shaking me at the shoulders.

I realized the girls were watching in the doorway.  “Mommy, what is happening?” Grace and April said in tandem.

Chief Monroe jumped in to answer their question. “Well little ladies, what we have here is a…. Well it’s ah. We don’t rightly know right now. There’s something in your attic and we need to get it out.”

“Sir, we figured that much out for ourselves.” April muttered

“No lip young lady! These officers are trying to help us.” I said. I was a little embarrassed by her comment but it was actually true. I was surprised she didn't add on "Captain Obvious" as she usually does under these kinds of circumstances.

I turned to the cop, “So what is the game plan at this point? Maybe we can discuss it over a cup of coffee? Somewhere else?”

“Why yes, that sounds like a fine idea. Lets go to the station.”

Blessed Be Chapter 1 - New Moon Crew

It sat in my house for years and I never recognized its power. It was a just a piece of dried out wood that I found hiking with my New Moon Club, a monthly women’s group that met up at my friend Bea’s house. 

We were the type of ladies who would greet each other with feel good catch phrases like “Blessed Be” and “manifesting through the Universe”.  At every meeting we ended with the same ritual, writing heart felt intentions on little scraps of paper, reading them out loud to each other and then ceremoniously burning them, sending our hope and fears up to the Kind Ones in the Universe. Apart from the new agey elements, our little group was about being there for each other in that moment, having others to share our laughter and tears, the secrets about our men, our children, our past, present and future.

The core group was 5 women though now and then other ladies would join us. I was in my late 20’s and the youngest in the group. I met our ringleader, Bea at work. Bea was a gifted executive secretary in her late 50’s. Anyone she worked for had an office that ran like clockwork.  She had 2 grown daughters and 5 cats. Bea had no concern for the conventions that bind most women her age, she explored the world fully, both the external and internal. She was a Wicca practitioner, but never went as far as saying she was a witch. If you came to her with an open heart and a small fee just to cover her expenses, she would guide you through your own journey of healing. Her home was a safe place to explore our inner worlds, and celebrate the magic within each other and our selves. The three other regulars were Fiona, Blythe and Margaret.

Fiona was an introverted waif of a woman in her late 30’s struggling to keep her past from poisoning her present. Her intentions always revolved around releasing the pain of childhood abuse and repairing problems in her marriage.  Often she would come in complaining about her overbearing mother-in-law who routinely barged into her home and started cleaning it because she insisted Fiona did not keep house well enough for her son. Fiona was working full time and going to school part time. She felt she should make no apologies for the fact that starch ironing and furniture polishing was just not on her radar screen. Fiona would get so angry at her husband for never standing up to his mother about her intrusive behavior. Through group discussion Fiona learned to see her mother-in-law as a lonely sad person mourning the loss of her one meaning in life – taking care of her son. Soon Fiona stopped seeing her mother-in-law’s efforts as criticism but rather free housekeeping services. She got the lady to agree on coming over at scheduled times rather than just showing up. Things brightened when the women came to a point of mutual acceptance.

Blythe was a housewife, raising 4 strapping boys and 1 girl. Now in her early 50’s, she was trying to decide if her 25-year marriage to a philanderer was worth keeping. At first her special intentions were all about having the strength to hang on until the youngest kids were out of college because she didn't want their tuition money being waylaid to divorce lawyers.  When her kids were out of college she finally admitted to herself that as much as he infuriated her at times, she couldn't see herself with anyone else and felt she was weak because she let him get away with cheating. One night, after an extra glass of wine, Blythe confessed to the group that she always knew when her husband was unfaithful on his business trips because she was an intuitive and felt his arousal as her own. With our help she started to see the advantage of this strange connection. She stopped being enraged at her husband’s infidelity and got a lover of her own. Soon enough she was again able to enjoy the things she loved about her husband and the things she didn't. Her home became a happier place.

40 something Margaret proclaimed herself a self-taught white witch and we were her makeshift coven because any of the other witching groups she had met over the years were a bunch of weirdoes. She had a wild mane of black hair, wore peasant skirts and Indian cotton tunics. Her hands, feet, wrists were adorned with jewelry made of semiprecious stones and crystals. Each thing she wore was carefully selected for how its energies influenced her aural plane. She suffered from Lupus that often disabled her. When her disease allowed, she worked as sculptor and photographer. Her art was sought after in local galleries and at fundraising auctions.  She was between husbands for most of the time I knew her because her children took center stage. Her 2 sons and 1 daughter were navigating the perils of adolescence with a fair share of drama. Her intentions were always about recharging her spiritual batteries. We talked her through her eldest son’s brushes with the law for under aged drinking, her daughter’s unsuitable suitors and the near fatal ATV crash her youngest son sustained.

Each month Bea planned a little something for us, some exploration of a topic or theme presciently relevant to whatever was going on with us. We always started with some guided meditation and then had a group discussion over a covered dish meal and a few glasses of wine. Sometimes we did crafts like dream catchers or totem bags. On a few occasions we would attempt passed life regressions during our meditation time.  On or near the solstices and equinoxes we would venture out on a little road trip. It was a trip to a Celtic meditation garden that started the whole thing.

November 1^st 1998 to be exact. We all played hooky from work or family commitments and drove out to the secluded park a hour and half away to do a mindfulness hike. After a hardy picnic lunch we sat Indian style on our blankets, closed our eyes and basked in the remaining warmth of the Autumnal sun.  Bea talked us through quieting our minds, calling the four sacred directions and setting an intention for the next hours to come. Next we would walk silently through the paths of the park mindfully exploring what lessons nature sought to provide for us on that a balmy Indian summer afternoon.

The day is etched so vividly into my mind. During her instructions to breathe deeply and let go of the strife of our every day I became keenly aware that the grass tickled my bare legs. I kept peeking to be sure it wasn't actually ants crawling up my shorts.  I was finally able to really focus on meditating when she suggested we set an intention.  I decide that I wished that through this trip I would gain enlightenment about the world around me and my purpose in it.  It often was my habit to make my intentions broad like that I couldn't help but swing for the metaphysical fences every time. I would come to learn being a little too ambitious with these kinds of wishes could have a big impact on one’s destiny.

And so the hike commenced. I mindfully strode through the woods with my lady friends doing my best to appreciate the glory of creation. My fears of ticks, poison oak and various creepy crawlies were immediately awakened. I smiled to the wilderness and reassured myself there was nothing I could see that really was going to hurt me.

As planned, 15 minutes into our walk the path spilt into 3 different trails. Bea said that each trail was well marked and circled back to the path we were on so it was impossible to get lost. The general plan was to separate and explore the woods alone. Find a place to sit down or keep moving or whatever struck our muse. In 30 minutes she would ring a bell and that was the signal to make our way back to entrance of the park.

 “Blessed be” we all mouthed silently and selected our own routes and paces. Since Margaret could tire easily and was sometimes a little unsteady on her feet it was decided in advance she and Blythe would buddy up and go down the same path together. They chose the left path. Bea and Fiona went to the right. My second deep awareness was a mild sense of annoyance that I was the only one really going it alone in the woods. It aroused my resentment of Fiona for being so clingy towards Bea. These caused me to reflect on why I cared about Fiona’s clinginess at all. And the truth was it highlighted my own wish to have Bea’s exclusive attention, it gnawed me to see my own neediness.

I had grown up one of the youngest in a large blended family. My birth mother died when I was still a toddler and my father remarried another woman when I was 6.  My stepmother had raised 5 kids on her own and perhaps out of necessity followed a minimalist approach to mothering. My basic needs were covered but I still felt lonely and forgotten on an island sometimes of my own making. I missed the mother I never knew. I felt like I was “the other”.

The carnivores in the schoolyard could smell that otherness and feasted on me through out grade school and high school furthering a melancholy I learned to overcome. I studied Social Work because I was convinced a career in mental health was my calling. I quickly learned it was not my path and settled into work at an Insurance Company.

In my late 20’s I could check off education, career path and marriage on my life experience tally sheet.   I grappled with the existential angst of “now what”.

Tuning into the present moment there on the walking path, I noticed the detritus of autumn all around me. Red and golden leaves below my feet had once soaked in the sun but now their time to fall had come. I too only had so much time. I had no patience for the uncertainties the winding road of life presented me. Being around these older women enabled me to see how life goes on. My written intentions were most often about finding balance and acceptance while creating my own path. 

The walking was easy. The meditation gardeners maintained the trails so that branches were trimmed back. Paths were mostly free of roots or boulders to trip on. The poisonous plants I worried about were nowhere in sight. Seating areas were thoughtfully placed every few hundred feet, some of those areas were clearly meant to be campfire circles.  Faded ribbons evidence of rituals of the past were randomly tied to trees. Every here and there small piles of rocks were precariously stacked like mini-megaliths.  Birds traded songs above my head. Now and then rustling in the leaves startled me.  I attributed the noise to copper head snakes but each time it proved to be a foraging chipmunk or squirrel. Bit by bit, I started to relaxed and tuned into the sensations of the forest. A warm breeze moved the tree limbs. The sun danced with the few leaves still on the trees and streamed patches of gold on the forest floor. I turned a bend and moved into a small valley where trees huddle together more closely and the air turned chill.

I climbed a large boulder that drew my eye and planted myself on it like a lotus flower. With my eyes closed I centered my attention to the beating of my heart and the expansion and contraction of my ribs with each breathe. It was easy to be quiet here. I didn’t fret what bugs could be on me or any other thing. Any thoughts passed quickly through and did not linger.

I floated in the peace without grasping. Time passed and I heard the bell ring. I repeated my intention – “May I take home something from the trip that would enlighten my understanding of the world and my purpose in it.” Then I opened my eyes, jumped off the rock and proceeded back the way I came feeling lighter and freer.

I was nearly back to the meeting point when I saw a branch lying on the ground and felt oddly compelled to pick it up. It was a little shorter than my arm and curved gracefully into a fork part way up. When I reached for it I found that the weight of it felt good in my hands.  I carried it along with me out to meet the ladies. We gathered together by the cars laughing and sharing our experience of the day’s adventure.

Margaret and Blythe discovered a huge spider’s web and watched its sizable owner wrapping its lunch in silk. Margaret was sure that she would return home and capture its toil in some kind of artwork. Blythe noticed one moth fly up to the web and narrowly evade capture and certain death. This got her pondering about how little divides us from one fate or another. 

Fiona and Bea sat down by a small pond and watched skate bugs skim across the water leaving ripples that extended and then overlapped other ripples of other skates. They got in to a conversation about inter dependency of all beings and how our own actions and those of others reverberate across the world in unknowable ways.

When it was my turn to share and I felt embarrassed because I had so little to say compared to everyone's deep thoughts. I just sat on a rock and listened to everything around me the time flew away in a heartbeat. I showed them my stick.  I said “And I found this!” and felt a little ridiculous when I looked down at the branch again. Perhaps it wasn't really so remarkable? I couldn’t really explain the ways in which the stick just called out to me.

 They examined the stick and to my relief they ooh’ed and ahh’ed about it. Bea suggested that I decorate it. She offered to give me some craft supplies left over from one of our previous projects. I was welcome to select some things to adorn it when we got back to her house. Inspired by my find, all the other ladies set out on the edge of the woods to find their own wands. I felt partly proud that I started a trend and also a little annoyed with the group, so eager to mimic me. It felt like somehow by them finding their own “magic sticks” my lovely sacred branch was less special. I pushed such thoughts out of my head, admonishing myself for being so petty. 

We returned to Bea’s house just early enough to spend 20 minutes decorating our sticks. Fiona dipped her stick in glitter glue and then stuck feathers to it for her cat. Blythe tied lengths of thin rawhide to her branch and threaded beads in a colorful pattern.  When she spun the stick between her hands back and forth the beads made a rhythmic clicking sound. Margaret painted her slender length of wood white and then inscribed it with tiny precise lettering so small it could not be read except up very closed. She had written a beautiful poem on it by Rumi.  I found a piece of purple ribbon that looked like netting. I carefully wrapped the ribbon along the branch. I thought simple but elegant was the best way to go when it came to magic wand fashions. The shape of the branch and its texture held center stage. The purple gauze merely claimed it as something other than a discarded twig. Once I saw the diversity of what each of us did I no longer felt like they were a bunch of copycats.

After the ladies’ outing I returned home and placed my magic wand on the mantle of my disused fireplace. It became the centerpiece of my meditation nook. Whenever we had a new moon ceremony that required a magic token I would trot it out laughing to myself that I was a “real” witch since I actually had a wand. During the Harry Potter craze I dressed for a Halloween party as Hermione Granger and the stick came along as my wand for authenticity.

I lost touch with my New Moon friends after I moved out of state. I heard it disbanded shortly after. I kept in touch with Bea on Facebook but it wasn't ever the same. I never found a group of friends as supportive as our new moon circle had become. The years rolled by.

The branch was just a memento of a nice romp I took in the woods one day with a bunch of ladies I used to know. Being a sentimental soul I carried it with me from move to move. Over time it took less prominence because I no longer had a mantle to sit it on. Eventually it lived under my bedroom dresser. Every now and then when Spring-cleaning time came around my husband would suggest it just collected dust and should be discarded. I insisted that it stay, it was doing no harm to him keeping the dust bunnies company.