When the house is silent, I strain to listen for the sound of his walker scraping against the laminate floor, or his laugh, a bark followed by unreserved chortles. Sometimes when I close my eyes, I see him savoring his favorite foods in the kitchen, or whispering into my grandmother’s lonely ears. I wish she could feel his presence too.
People claim I’m dreaming. The people who fear ghosts and question their existence. I can’t afford that doubt, because then I’d have to face life without him. And if you ask me, that’s a hell of a lot scarier than ghosts.
I think many of us can appreciate the ghosts of our past, at some point. Beautifully written.
Thank you! 🙂
I echo azsalinas’ remarks. He said it a heck of a lot better than I could have!
Nice job.
Nice story
Well done Hayley 🙂
Beautiful and packed with emotion!