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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.
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!
在我們居住的這個小鎮(zhèn)上,我家已經(jīng)搬了好幾個地方,直到我們終于在賓西法尼亞大街的一所房子安定了下來。這里的鄰居都很平易近人,很快父親母親就和他們交上了朋友。
我家左邊住著一位老太太,名字叫露西,我們的關系相處得尤其的好。她丈夫兩年前去世了,附近也沒有其他家人,我家?guī)缀蹙统闪怂拇砣?。露西夫婦在四十年代就買下了這所房子和土地,她丈夫很喜歡把房子和屋后的小院粗粗拉拉的修補一番,但是那個小院可是他生命中的寄托。多年來他精心的照料著院子里的一草一木,而露西就在屋里給遠方的親戚寫信,講述這邊生活的點點滴滴。
小院在露西丈夫的打理之下顯得格外漂亮,人們都不免對那里品頭論足,夸獎稱贊一番。他去世以后,露西決定就把他的骨灰撒在這個占據(jù)了他生命中無數(shù)時間的院子里。但是一段時間過后,露西確信她丈夫又回到了他的小院。而此時這個曾經(jīng)讓他日夜不離的地方已經(jīng)是雜草叢生,露西覺得很害怕。她告訴我們說聽到了有腳步聲在院里的草坪上踱來踱去,還感覺到有人或是什么東西輕輕地拍她的肩膀。于是,她就努力再也不到那個鬧鬼的地方去。
接下來的幾年里露西就這樣孤孤單單的生活著,我們經(jīng)常請她過來參加我們的家庭會議,但是這對于失去愛人的她來說是于事無補的。她依然成天的用那臺古老的打字機給家人和朋友寫信。春天夏天的時候只要我們一打開窗戶便能聽到打字機忙碌的聲音。
露西去世后,房子空了好長一段時間。新房東搬進去之前,父親進去做了一些修繕的工作。他說經(jīng)常聽到有人在老的硬木地板上走路的聲音。我們也都知道那里確實是發(fā)生了什么,因為我們又聽見了熟悉的打字機發(fā)出的聲音。露西回來寫信了。你應該會說,露西夫婦都割舍不下他們一生中的摯愛吧,我想是這樣的。