Ghost Story

I was going to write a cute post about Liam's new affection for playing peekaboo, but I've decided to write about my ghost instead. Because I just saw him again.
So just so's you know, I occasionally work as a psychic medium.
It's ok, it's ok, take a deep breath. Sorry, I should have told you to sit down first. I probably just lost some readers.
Anywho, yeah, I see dead people and all that. But as a rule, I close myself off completely unless someone needs help.
You're allowed to think I'm strange; I'm totally down with that. And I agree!
Moving on. Like I said, I don't open myself up when I'm at home. With three kids, a husband, and a resident brother to deal with, I'm pretty busy without talking to the dead, too. But sometimes, they get through.
I knew we had some ghosts here when we moved in, and quickly began ignoring them with the stubbornness of...well, of me. I'm pretty stubborn. Some things happened here and there...voices on the monitors, strange noises...oh, and I heard my name very clearly when nobody was home. I actually came upstairs because I thought Jim was calling me. Regardless, I was able to pretty successfully ignore them. I knew there was a man and a woman, and that they were unrelated. The woman began hanging out in my room, so I figured out what was up with her and helped her out. The man, on the other hand, has been more quiet. Until recently.
A couple of months ago, I began to hear footsteps above me while I was upstairs. They were unmistakable and clear, and scared the crap out of me because hearing footsteps above me while I was upstairs meant there was somebody walking around in my attic. I convinced myself that I was hearing echoes of our neighbor's footsteps (we're in a semi-detached, side-by-side duplex). That worked well until one day, after I put Liam to bed. I began leaving the room when, directly above me, the footsteps began again. I stopped cold in my tracks. The footsteps stopped. I walked a few more steps. A few more footsteps. I bolted out of the room and stopped, gasping for breath, by the top of the stairs. For a second or two, there was no sound.
Then, running footsteps following the same path I had been on and stopping above my head. Although I was certain then that this was not the echoing footsteps of my neighbors, I looked out into their driveway anyway. Both cars were gone.
That day, Jim had been on a mill tour near our house. When he stopped in for lunch, I demanded that he check the attic. He did, though he couldn't see much of anything, much less some vagrant hiding out and spying on us. Or tricksy ghosts. He did mention, though, that the "floor" up there was indeed only planks of wood with insulation in between; it would be hard to make any sort of normal footsteps up there.
Visions of upside-down ghosts walking on my ceiling filled my mind.
That night, I opened up and asked the ghost to please leave me alone. Sometimes, that's enough, and for a while, it was! I haven't heard any footsteps since then.
Then, last week, I had come downstairs for a glass of water after putting Liam to bed. It was somewhere around 3am, and I was tired and thirsty. The door to the basement was wide open, which is nothing unusual; Jeff leaves it open for the cats. I walked by it to get some water at the sink, then walked back. As I passed the basement stairs, I saw him out of the corner of my eye: he was standing about halfway down the stairs and was sort of softly glowing, and looking up at me. He had a jacket on and some baggy pants, and his hands hung at his sides. An unmistakable "hello" was said. I simply walked onward and up the stairs, determined to go on about my ghost-free life. But no use; he knew now that I perceived him.
Three nights ago, again after putting Liam down, I started down the stairs to, again, get some water. As I was coming down the stairs, I saw a glowing light in the middle of the living room. It was as if someone was shining a flashlight up from the floor - there was no perceivable shape or figure, just light. In a second, it was gone. I stood there for a long time, just looking at that spot, but the light did not reappear. When I went back to bed, I drifted off, then suddenly woke again. I looked at the clock, which said 3:33, and thought, "that's a weird time to suddenly wake up," and Liam let out a high-pitched scream like I'd never heard before.
Today, walking by the basement door again, I saw him. This time, the door was open less than a foot, but I saw something out of the corner of my eye and glanced back without thinking. He was at the top of the stairs, only a couple of feet away, and his face was as plain as day. He is older, deeply wrinkled, and large. He looked into my eyes. He wants something.
So, now I either have to redouble my efforts to block him, or just get on with it and figure out what he wants.
Working as a medium is very different than seeing your own ghosts. When I help others, I see the dead as images in my mind, like pictures. I hear words and music, smell certain things...it's a rare occasion that I physically see. So I'm a little miffed that my peaceful world is being interrupted.

Uh oh. You're all weirded out. You're thinking I'm crazier than the title of the blog implies. You're thinking maybe I need to get on some good drugs.
Hmmmm what to do?
I know! Look at the pretty baby! Theresa's not weird! Look! Where's Liam?

Where's Liiiiaaaaam?

Peekaboo!

Ah, that's better. Let's have some tea and never speak of this again, shall we?