Dusk at Nannie's

I was on the back of a dirt bike when it happened. My cousin, John, was driving. We were riding the trails we had worn through the fields that summer barefooted, sunburned, and carefree. 

We knew we were to call it a day before the sun was set. Thundering down the trails we decided to go around just one more time . . . again.  Long weeds tickled my feet as they glided through the spaces between my toes. We roared back up behind the old family home and along the font by the road. 

As we passed the front of the house, I glanced threw the screen door and saw her, Nannie, looking out at us with an alternating expression. She looked both relieved that we were nearby and upset because we had not come in at dusk. Wait! Nannie had gone to Heaven many years ago. Was I seeing things?

Just then, John brought the bike to a dirt flinging stop. He turned to me and asked, "Did you see Nannie?"