What’s a medium supposed to look like?

I had imagined flowing robes and crystals, but Maria Legget wore cargo pants and a sleeveless t-shirt that showed off her tattoos. Her white-gray hair was asymmetrically cut, buzzed on one side and flowy on the other. The room smelled like burnt leaves.

We chatted a bit and then I asked, “What if Trent doesn’t want me to sell the land?”

“Let’s ask him!”

She closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them. “He says the reason you feel close to him there is because you’re open to feeling him there. But it’s not because of the field. He goes everywhere you go. Wherever you go, he’s there.”

I thought that was a nice thing for a medium to say to a woman who obviously had loved her husband. She would have known that from Googling me. She would have known from the tone of my voice as I asked the question.

Maria startled in her chair. “Oh. He says, ‘Why are you hanging on to a piece of land you’re never going to do anything with, anyway?’”

Now that sounded like Trent.

In the lawyer’s cramped office, sitting low before the giant desk, I told Scott and Mike, “There’s nothing to worry about. Trent’s okay with the deal.”

“Good,” said Mike. “We won’t need an exorcism.”

We chatted a bit and Mike asked, “How long ago did you buy it?” I thought the question was curious. Purchase dates are public information.

“2018.”

Then he said, “How’d you find it?”

I chuckled. “Trent.”

He raised his eyebrow. The attorney was still gone. We had time for another story.

Chewing the Cud of Good

Thankful for the times we had.