Growing up in the East Tennessee foothills, I hear many strange stories and superstitions. There are tales about strange animals that lurk in the woods and the mountains. Skunk apes roam the hills, giant bears reportedly kill and eat stray hikers....it all adds up to a rolling mythos of legends and myths.
One of the greatest myths is that of the live possum. Nobody really ever sees a live possum very often, they're mostly squashed in the middle of the road. But when I opened my front door this morning to go get my newspaper, there he was.
Hobbling across my path, down by the garage doors and around the side of the house.
The kids scurried out to see, for they had likely never seen a live one before either.
We all counted ourselves fortunate to have glimpsed such a rare find, but I happened to think later... what omen does it portend when a possum crosses your path. In the fog. On the first Monday of a new year.
I'll probably regret not running back to bed, but I for one am going to be keeping a sharp eye out for falling safes today.