The window was shut to keep out the cold. It was a bitter January night in Nebraska; the temperature
had not risen to double digits in two weeks. I was curled up in a ball on the dark brown,
oversized, leather sofa, trying to finish a fantasy novel for English class. It was pretty good so
far, it had all of the components of being a good fantasy story; it had the good guy, the bad guy,
and the helpless maiden who needed to be saved. My eyes glanced over at the small-digitized alarm
clock sitting steadily on the built-in shelves. I was jealous of it, I was jealous of how it could
sit so still for so long. For the last year I've been too worried, too scared, and too uneasy, to
sit still for more than ten minutes at a time. My brain then processed the information I was
staring at. I discovered that the time had passed quickly; the red digital numbers were flashing
eleven fifty-nine PM! I quickly closed my book, and set it softly down on the oak side-table between
the sofa and the dining table. I hopped down and swiftly strode over to the window. One of the
things I love about my house is the view. My house sits on a steep hill, down the rocky ledge a few
hundred feet lays a lake surrounded by a vast amount of trees. The picture perfect image that you
see when you wake up, make breakfast, and even use the toilet is what sold me on the house. This
time I was looking, not to admire, but to examine. I had to examine the hill leading up to my
house, all the way back to the horizon vanishing into the distance. I followed my routine of
picking up the ratty, torn, black and white photo off the dining table. I interpreted the data that
was staring me in the face. The picture was of a baby girl, she had not grown to the point where
she had hair yet, but she was pale with the look of death spread upon her sweet, rounded face. As I
looked through the glass, I saw nothing but night sky with a star here and there. I've been doing
this routine ever since 'the night.' When I brought this subject up, my friends all give me that
look that says, 'you have definitely gone mad this time.' So, I decided to never talk about it with
any of them, ever again. I can remember that night so vividly, so crystal clear. But how could
you forget the night you saw the ghost of your dead, baby sister hovering outside your window' I was
only eight years old when she died. I didn't fully understand what was going on when she got sick.
Mother later told me that during birth she was without air for too long; leading to lifelong heart
and lung complications. The doctors said that her prematurity wouldn't help the outcome much. The
doctors placed her in the NICU which stands for newborn intensive care unit. They kept her in one
of those big boxes to keep her lungs and heart working. But, there wasn't much they could do when
her lungs stopped taking in air. She died one week after she was born. The name on the gravestone
reads Lina G.... It will be a year next week from the day I saw her staring back at me through the
closed window, at exactly twelve o-clock AM. She looked like the little girl in the picture with no
hair, arms lying softly by her side, and a pale rounded face. Her small see-through body was
floating in the dark night sky. The full moon was shining through her, lighting her body like the
electricity circuiting through a bolt of lightning during a summer storm. It was amazing how seeing
her actually calmed me down, unlike in movies where people scream every time they see a flickering
of the lights, let alone a ghost. Every night since that one unforgettable happening occurred, I
looked for Lina's ghost, but I never saw it again. Tonight was like any other night with nothing to
see but sky. I will always look through that window hoping to see her because it's the only
connection I have with her, with my past. Even though I haven't seen her I still know she is there,
because seeing isn't believing, believing is seeing. I don't question that, because I know that she
will always be looking out for me, no matter what!