My mother told on more than one occasion: “Ghosts are real. But they’re not like the ones in books.”
I didn’t believe her; I couldn’t believe her, but the older I get, the more I understand what my mother meant.
Ghosts aren’t the floating white sheets in movies. They’re not called Casper… They’re the floating white wisps of memories we try to forget.
They don’t say “Boo!”
And only the one terrifies me.