A “haint” is a Southern colloquilism for a lost soul. Some one wondering in the wilderness with no direction.
I just spent two hours on the phone with my almost best friend. Almost, because Yvonne left before we could really bond. She was my next door neighbor for 11 months. She retired and un-retired and has launched a whole new career.
We were discussing how our lives have evolved because we took a chance and did something no one thought would work.
When J.Paul died she was facing a life of what? Growing tomatoes with me? When I retired I could sit in my red chair and read murder mysteries for the rest of my life? Well, okay, maybe I’ll be the haint.