Maggie was only a year old when we moved into our dream house. It was an old house, but that had always been my dream. I always wanted an old house, one with large rooms, plenty of windows, and lots of closets. Well this house was my dream come true. I was never happier.

Soon as Maggie started walking and getting into things the way small toddlers have a habit of doing, things began to take a drastic turn. Maggie was a child that need constant watching. She was always climbing the furniture, or tripping over her own small feet. Her bruises were constant from all the spills and tumbles she had taken through the course of the day.

I had just had my third child. Maggie was now almost four years old. She would come down from playing in her room, tug on my apron, and whisper, almost inaudibly, "Ma she's in my room." "Who? Sweetie, Who's in your room?" She would shrug her small shoulders, smile and scamper off.

One afternoon, I was taking the clothes off the line. The children were all taking afternoon naps. As I looked toward the kitchen door, I thought I saw someone standing at the door. Thinking it was just an afternoon shadow, I turned back to the clothes line when I heard the door slam. I quickly turned again to the door and saw a woman standing in the door.

"Yes, can I help you?" I shouted, running through the yard, and up the steps to the porch. There was no one in sight! I went up the stairs, fearing for the childrens safety. When I reached the upstairs hallway, I again saw her standing in Maggie's doorway. She disappeared before my eyes. I ran into Maggie's room. Maggie was sitting on her floor, slowly lighting a box of wooden matches she had taken from the top of the coal stove. The hardwood floor was covered with the burnt out matches. Maggie knew she was never to touch matches. "Ma she was here." She was too young to realize the danger of matches.

I was upset because I really didn't know what to think. Was this housebound spirit responsible for Maggie's getting into the matches, which I had to use a stool to reach, or was she watching out for her?

The answer became clear when soon after, Mickey who was only two years old got tangled in the blind cord. Again she was back peeking in the doorway of the kitchen. I bolted into the playroom, just in time to untangle little Mickey, who was already a frightening shade of blue.

As un-nerving as it sometimes is to know you are sharing your home with a ghost, It is also comforting to know there is a second pair of eyes watching out for my children. She has peered through the doorway many times through the years, alerting me that ALL WAS NOT WELL.