The Empty House Visit

I never met my grandmother. She passed long before I was born. Every year on the date she left us, our family would meet at her old home. We would share food and stories, and all the children would sleep in the big living room.

One year, the gathering was canceled. My uncle, who always organized it, was traveling for work. My mother decided we should still go to the cemetery to pay our respects. My sister and I went with her.

Afterward, we drove to our grandmother’s empty house to check on it. My mother went to the market, leaving my sister and me inside. We decided to wait for her, playing cards at the kitchen table.

I grew tired and rested my head on my arms. I was jolted awake by my sister shaking me. Her face was pale. She pointed toward the hallway and whispered that she had heard the back door opening and closing, though no one was there. We held our breath and listened to the silence in the empty house.

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