The neighborhood has lost its luster. Driving by my childhood home I stopped half a block away to look at the window I once spent so much time looking out of. I was a child when I saw her at my bedroom door. She was a fleeting vision of a girl in a flowing nightgown, no older than me. I felt like she wanted me to wake up and play. But when I got up, she was gone. Years later I learned how playful she had been, hiding and replacing things around the house. I wasn’t the only one she was visiting.
The house has changed owners many times since we moved out. It is not aging gracefully and all traces of our family are long gone. As I drove away, I expected her to be peeking out the window and maybe she was.
I have had some interesting, unexplainable moments throughout my life. She was my first. She remains with me, somewhere after the eleventh hour.