Porch

How do you explain it? Through a local real estate auction, a man buys a property in Wisconsin, a small ranch house and lot, in a quiet, rural area.

He drives across two states to see his purchase, a close friend along for the road trip. Arriving at the ranch, they stood outside for a few minutes, talking with a local agent, there to meet the new buyer. As the men talked, the ranch's new owner looked over at his friend. Standing behind him, at the corner of the long porch of the house, was an old woman in a blue shawl. 

She was slightly trembling, looked proud and perhaps confused, but remained silent. The buyer, looking past his friend for several moments, finally said, "Hi. Can we help you?" As the other two men turned to see who the buyer had just spoken to, the old woman was suddenly gone. Just gone. The puzzled buyer ran around the side of the house, looking down the long, open field behind the structure. Nothing. 

The other two men started questioning him, but by this time the befuddled buyer was totally freaked-out. Ignoring his companions, recalling his days as a young reporter for his local paper, he ran back to his car. Pulling a scratch pad from the glove compartment, he sat in his car and began sketching everything he could recall about the old woman he had just seen.

A competent artist, he soon had a detailed ink drawing of what he saw, then gave it to the agent. Maybe she was a nearby neighbor, the buyer concluded, the agent would show the sketch to some relatives of the property seller he knew, they lived in the nearby town.

The next day, the buyer received an unbelievable phone call. It was the property agent. He had visited the nearby relatives of the seller, showing them the drawing. Their reaction was instant, as they all began to cry, one woman dropping to her knees, shaken to the core. "Oh my God, it's Aunt Elizabeth!", they all cried. 

It was her for sure, right down to the blue shawl she always wore. The old woman was the ranch house's former occupant for the past twenty-seven years. An 84 year-old living alone, her dementia much worse the last year, she had finally died quietly in her sleep. Four months prior. 

One of the relatives, between sobs, mentioned that their aunt liked to spend time on the porch with neighbors, sitting often for tea and pastry.