When I was the age of twelve years old, a woman that I had never met or seen before was sitting on the head of my bed. Startled I turned to leave and looked back and she was gone.
That morning, I told the story to my parents at breakfast and was giving them a complete description of this woman in my bedroom. My father smiled and said that this woman was his mother who died when he was fourteen. He told me she would have been so proud of me. All pictures of my fraternal grandmother were lost in a house fire when my father was twenty yrs. old. I had no reference of what she had looked like. – Minnie