Haunted House

The stairs creak, the floor groans — night sounds of the empty nest.

When the house was full of children I used to joke that we didn't need those fake cobwebs, we had the real thing. Our house was messy because we were too busy to clean it.

The house is tidier now, but trick-or-treaters will be the only kids I see. No one to carve the pumpkin (though Celia helped with that last week when she was here for fall break). No one to watch "The Legend of Sleepy Hollow" and laugh at Bram Bones. No one to borrow my eyeliner for drawing a fake mustache.

Luckily, the house is haunted. Not with evil spirits, but with good ones. All the years, tears, giggles — all the drama — it's here somewhere; I'm convinced of it. And on this day of spirits, it doesn't take much imagination to find it.