We heard a sudden crashing yesterday.  It was a distant sound, and then suddenly it was upon us.  A white figure moved through the trees outside our house, swinging from limb to limb with such force and determination, we couldn’t help but stand in awe.  Some people live here for years and never see what I refer to as the “White Ghost”.  Our last encounter with one of these majestic beings was last year.  Pascaline was reaching her climax of pain and high temperatures with the Dengue Fever.  The Dengue is often called the “bone breaker” because you feel like your bones are being crushed while you fever.  She cried out thinking her nose had broken off, and it was all we could do to hold her down and try to calm her.  And then the White Ghost came, but not just one, three or four.  Over Pascaline’s high pitched screams, the even louder whooping, whirling sounds of the Gibbon Apes encircled our house.  In that moment, Pascaline felt held–loved by the jungle.  That was the last time, we saw a White Ghost…until yesterday.

You hear the crashing sound first.  It sounds like a large body is falling through the trees, breaking every limb in its path.  And then, if you are lucky, you’ll see the white figure go swinging by–from branch to branch to branch–flawless at acrobatics in the canopy above you.  Not only did we see the White Ghost go flying by, but we watched him climb up the tree that looks over our house.

He climbed the tree and sat in the branches, exposed, looking down on us.  After five minutes of him staying put, the kids ran to tell our friends to come–come and see the White Ghost.  and he stayed for almost 15 minutes, looking down over our home.  People couldn’t believe how “out in the open” he was.  We couldn’t believe how long he stayed.  It was a magical moment.  It was our miracle with Gibbon apes.

When magic rises up around you, you can’t help but wonder the unusual, the unlikely, or impossible…can he recognize our scent? Does he remember Pascaline?  Is he even one of the three that came to her last year?  Is he watching over us, letting us know he is still here?  Is this moment random?  Am I silly for even wondering any of these things?

Without warning, he turned and leaped off the tree and swung away.  Those that live here full time expressed how rare this was–how amazing.  Our hearts were full of magic and wonder.

And then yesterday, in the late afternoon, the crashing sound came again.  At a time of day, when you rarely hear or see a Gibbon, the White Ghost came swinging through the trees again–the same blur of wonder.  Up the tree he climbed, and there he sat for almost twenty minutes.

I’m convinced that the White Ghost is watching over us.

What do you think?

xo,

m