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Have you ever entered a place, and felt an unease? I mean, like you needed or should leave. Something about it hung heavy.
It was a moment in our trip with our granddaughters. Hard to describe, but it was definite.
We had just gone on a winding road drive from Sequoia to a small town on Lake Isabella. It was one of those roads where one curve swung onto the next, then the next, then more and more. We laughed at first, then we made jokes, and ended the trip with robust singing, and asking "Are we almost there yet?"
One gr-daughter arranged for an AirBnb, nice quiet place. The yard was filled with New Age art sculptures. It was amazing. Lots of stain glass had been formed into a garden that one doesn't forget.
When the owner came, he showed up the house, gave us tour, listed the places to eat. He was a young guy, and this was his house. I don't know why, but there was a heaviness around.
I was wearing a white gold crucifix on a nice chain. The latch was coming loose, so I pulled it from under my shirt, and started to re-attach it. The young man's eyes opened wide, and he took two steps back.
I still think of that few minutes when he took two steps backward. I wonder now: What would he have done if I had taken two steps forward.
He quickly left, we thanked him, and settled in. The darkness left.
Have you ever been in a place or situation where you felt this heaviness somewhere? And then you left?
