Ghosts share my house. Some of them are real. Mr. Hill, who had the home designed and built for his family in 1938 still wanders around. He seems friendly enough but, I have to say, I've never really spent any time around many spooks. Not that I've known about.
Then there are the memories. Those are just getting harder to shake. I'm needing a fresh supply of happy ones.
It's been about eighteen years now. I've never lived in one place for so long. Oh yeah, it's home in that I can walk around in the dark and not stumble over furniture. I've got a dog here, though, needing a fresh load of joy and fun. I've got a cat who wants everything happy again. Remember that? Jamaica and Angel deserve all the fun and all the love and all the peace in the world. That's my job.