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I have had many different unexplainable things happen to me since I was a child, as early as 5 years of age. I was in a car accident then in which my mother was killed, near Carp, Ontario. We were on our way to see her father, my grandfather, in the hospital in Ottawa as she'd just received news that day that he was diagnosed with cancer. That was in January of 1970. That summer, when I was in our house, I heard my deceased mother calling me from outside.

I went out the door and she was sitting on our swing set and I remember being so happy to see her. (I don't think I understood the concept of ghosts then.) She talked to me for several minutes, and I remember distinctly her asking me how my middle brother was. We were gently swinging back and forth under the weeping willow tree. I heard the back door (screen door) slam shut and looked over and when I looked back she was gone.

Her father that we were going to see in the hospital, died later that same year in November from lung cancer. I went to live with my grandmother (his wife) seeing as how girls weren't allowed to stay in homes back then without women. My two brothers stayed with my father. My grandmother and I moved from their big house into an apartment in Almonte, ON and I had my own room with two beds in it.

I always slept in the steel three-quarter bed, and I woke up one night and saw my grandfather, he was like a much defined fog of himself, wearing a ring in which a huge bright light was shining from. I froze, couldn't yell or scream, felt like I had something stuck in my throat, pulled the covers over my head, and then he was gone. I told my grandmother about it, and she told me that their two sons had been fighting over my grandfather's ring which had a diamond in it, and one of them took it off of him in the casket.

Since those early experiences, I've had many different experiences, but with no-one that I recognized. When my ex-husband and I lived in a rented farmhouse outside of Perth, Ontario, it seemed to really escalate. The taps in the kitchen would come on full force by themselves (witnessed by others at a dinner party we had on New Year's Eve), I could hear someone walking up the back stairs from the kitchen to our bedroom at night. Specific footsteps, not just creaky boards.

There was a handprint left on the frost on the upstairs window, for which there was no way up on the outside of the house. We didn't stay a month before we called the owners and told them that we were leaving. The neighbor that pulled me out of the ditch there one night, after listening to my stories, told me that the old couple who had lived there both died in the house, within a month of each other.

A farmhouse that I owned near Forester's Falls, Ontario also had a few occurrences in it. My children were terrified to go to bed by themselves and my daughter didn't sleep all night any night that we lived there, she always woke up crying and screaming. The lights in the upstairs hall would flick on and off by themselves. The dog, our Rottweiler, would jump up from a sound sleep, and with hackles raised, would stare into that hallway and growl and bark.

I saw a man, dressed from the period of around the turn of the century in that hallway one night and he made me aware of his feeling of being lost and I knew that he was trying to get to Forester's Falls. The day we bought the house, when we tried to unlock the door with the keys, something was pushing on the other side of the door when we tried to open it. The people who lived there before moved far away so I couldn't question them about it.

The house that my husband and I built where I live now, near Cobden, Ontario, seems to have people arguing in the basement. For the longest time they would wake me up, like clockwork, every night at 3 am and I would wake my husband and ask if he could here them, but he would just roll over and go back to sleep, claiming that I was 'crazy'. I couldn't make out what they were saying from the second story of the house, but I could distinctly tell from the tone of the voices that they were arguing.

As we were building our home, I'd already started the garden here, and it was on a Sunday afternoon that we came for a picnic here. I was checking for potato bugs and someone pushed me very hard from behind and I fell to the ground on my hands and knees. I laughed, thinking that it was my husband, but when I turned around and looked there was no-one there.

We built a wrap-around porch on our house, and have huge windows all around the house, and on several, several occasions, I've had him go outside to see who it was that was walking by the windows, but now he refuses to listen to me, because not once did he see anyone.

One month ago, in the middle of the night, he also woke up with me, when we heard a huge bang inside the house. He was panting, asking me if I heard that. I said yes, and he whispered, it sounds like there is someone downstairs, but when he got up and looked, there was no-one, and no tracks on our driveway in the fresh snow the next morning either.

I've had the feeling of panic when I come down in the basement, where the kid's bedrooms are, all though, they're all adults and have moved out now. A few times I've seen shadows, or thought I had, race across the hall in front of me as I round the corner for the laundry room. My heart races, but I force myself to keep going and try to ignore it.

It just seems so strange to me that everywhere I've lived there's been some kind of 'happening' there.