My Grandparents’ House – Many Years Later – Photo © 2012 Courtesy of My Cousin
It was the home where my mother grew up in a small beach town in Virginia, situated on main street and only 2 blocks from downtown.
You wouldn’t think the house would be “haunted” just to look at it. And, oh, what would it say, if it could talk? “I remember that family ― the small, frail man and the large, strong endearing woman. She understood me.”
Not only strange phenomena were captured in the house but the joy and laughter of children, as well, along with evening prayers and the smell of fried chicken every Sunday.
It was a typical, modest two-story house with connecting bedrooms upstairs and one bath. Being the first-born of five, my mother earned the distinction of having the largest, back bedroom closest to the bathroom. Continue reading →
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