When was the first time you saw a ghost?  I’ve been asked this question a few times.  I took some time and thought about it this morning.  I set aside the encounters I’ve had as an adult and thought back to my childhood.  I had to access my memory vault – it’s actually a moldy cardboard Keds box tucked under the stairs of my mind house – and found this:

 My earliest memory is of me waking in the night.  A shaft of moonlight streamed in from the from one the high windows of our corner bedroom in the ranch home where I spent my childhood.  It illuminated a tall white mass in the corner by the large chest of drawers between me and the door.  My parents’ room was just across the hall.  I knew if I could just get to my mother, all would be well.  But how to get there unnoticed by the ghost?  If I stood up, my four-year-old body surely would have been noticed, so I slipped down to the floor from my bottom bunk of the trundle bed set I shared with my older sister.