In this small town, my family and I had lived at several places, before settling down in a house on Pennsylvania Ave. A very quiet neighborhood, my folks quickly made friends with those all around.
In the house on the left of ours lived an old woman named Lucy. She and my parents got along splendidly. Her husband had died about two years prior, and having no family close by, we became sort of a surrogate family. Lucy and her husband had bought their house and property in the 1940’s. Her husband loved to tinker around the house and yard, but the yard was his real passion. He gave meticulous care all year long, while she would type letters to distant relatives about the progress being made.
我家左边住着一位老太太，名字叫 ，我们的关系相处得尤其的好。她丈夫两年前去世了，附近也没有其他家人，我家几乎就成了她的代理人。 夫妇在四十年代就买下了这所房子和土地，她丈夫很喜欢把房子和屋后的小院粗粗拉拉的修补一番，但是那个小院可是他生命中的寄托。多年来他精心的照料着院子里的一草一木，而露西就在屋里给远方的亲戚写信，讲述这边生活的点点滴滴。
Lucy’s husband brought the yard to a beautiful state. Everybody admired and remarked on its condition. When he died Lucy thought it befitting to spread his ashes in the back yard, the place where he had spent countless hours. But after some time Lucy was convinced that her husband had come back to his yard. She was especially frightened of the sprawling back yard where he had spent many daylight hours. Lucy would tell us of hearing the sound of footsteps coming across the grass or of someone or something tapping her on the shoulder. So she would try and avoid that area stating simply "it just spooks me out."
Over the next several years were lonely times for Lucy. We often had her at our house for family functions, but it didn’t quite make up for losing a loved one. She spent the majority of her time typing letters on an old typewriter to family and friends. During the spring and summer months when we had our windows open, we could hear her busily typing away.
When Lucy died the house remained vacant for a long time. Before the new owners were to take over, my Father did some repair work inside. He often said he heard footsteps on the old hardwood floors. But we all knew something was happening when we heard the unmistakable striking of typewriter keys. Lucy had come back to type her ghostly letters. I guess you could say that neither Lucy nor her husband was going to give up the things they loved the most!