Ghosts

It's Sunday and I'm looking at the 'girl on the postcard'. The card was sent with "best wishes" back in 1916, more than a century ago. The girl, beautiful, with a mischievous look in her eyes, looks at the from the mists of time.

Who was she? Was she a professional model, or just a well-to-do girl, who posed for a greeting card? How did her life unfold? Did she do something 'artistic', was she married, did she have kids..? How long did she live?

I guess I'll never know. And maybe it's better that way. Because now I can fantasize about her, and pretend she's still alive, as she looks a me with those witty and seductive eyes, from the top of the living room chest of drawers. 

She's one of the ghosts that live here with me, and keep me safe.