The Farmhouse Ghost of Mother

When my sister Betsy and I were kids, we lived in a charming old

farmhouse. We loved exploring its dusty corners and climbing the apple tree in

the backyard. But our favorite thing about the farmhouse was the ghost.

We called her Mother, because she seemed so kind and nurturing.

Some mornings we’d find a cup on our nightstands that wasn't there before.

Mother had left them, worried we would get thirsty during the night.

Among the house’s original furnishings was an antique wooden chair. Whenever we were

playing, Mother would inch that chair across the room. Years later,