Bienvenidos a Casa Limon. Yes, this old, not so attractive house is our home. Don't let the shabby exterior fool you, it is much nicer on the inside. (Hey, that's a great idea for a future post!)
Many of the older houses in Mexico aren't only rich in history, but also very rich in folklore. (By that, I mean ghost stories!) And my house isn't the exception.
The owner's family has lived in this house since before my in-law's moved into the neighborhood almost 40 years ago. The parents, Don Fausto and Doña Chayo made the best menudo in town. They also ran a small general store, where my hubby's upholstery shop is located.
Sadly, Don Fausto and Doña Chayo passed on. The house sat unattended for years, until we rented it.
When we moved in, we placed what little furniture we had in our cozy living room. We had a loveseat and an ottoman that my hubby crafted himself. And of course, my favorite piece, a rocking chair. Not an old rocking chair, but a new, squeeky, wooden rocker that my mother-in-law bargained the price down to two rockers for 500 pesos. We gave her the other rocker. I digress.
My brothers-in-law enjoy telling ghost stories almost as much as they enjoy scaring me. They both loved to tell me tall tales of the ghost of Doña Chayo lurking around in the kitchen and back patio.
Ghost stories don't scare me. (Mice, rats, insects and loud fireworks lit outside my door scare me!)
My grandmother always told me stories about a haunted house she lived in when my mom and uncles were teenagers. According to Gramm, ghosts are mischievous little spirits that love wreaking havoc, but ultimately behave when spoken to in a firm voice.
One night, while laying in bed, my hubby and I heard a squeeking noise. It sounded as if someone was sitting in our rocking chair. But that was impossible, because the kids were asleep and we were in the bedroom.
Hubby got out of bed to investigate. It didn't take him long to get to the living room, its only 6 or 7 paces away. When Hubby got to the living room, the rocking chair was as still as a mountain. He checked on the kiddies to see if they weren't playing around, but they were sound asleep.
When Hubby returned to bed, we joked that it was probably Doña Chayo's ghost watching T.V.
The midnight squeeking persisted, and Hubby and I continued to jokingly blame it on Doña Chayo.
Then one day, the squeeking stopped. We had just purchased a three piece furniture set for the living room. There was no longer any room for the rocker, so we moved it to our bedroom, where it never squeeked again.
We had almost forgotten about the squeeking, when one of Doña Chayo's daughters came for a visit. She asked if we had experienced any paranormal activity. She told us the tale of "something" pushing the grandkids down the stairs in the back, unused part of the house. They all figured it was Doña Chayo's ghost trying to get her grandkids to behave.
We then told her the story of the squeeky rocking chair and how we joked that it was probably Doña Chayo. She let out a long sigh and agreed with us. She explained that Doña Chayo liked to sit in her rocking chair late at night, after a hard day's work to watch television.
Well, now that I know I have a ghost lurking around, I am extra careful walking down those stairs. And I gave away the rocking chair!
With Love,
Leslie Limon
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