I have this little tableau set up, and I suppose you could say it is a kind of altar to my mother and to family connections. There are pictures of my mother and L (and me, actually . . .), with little icons from France and shells we collected together in England in a glass. The pottery is something I had given to her long ago, because she lived on a mountain with a view. The glass paperweight is there for stability.
I was going to post a ghost story (a true one, too; Reya knows . . .), but with the thinning of the barrier today between worlds, perhaps it's better to think about my mother, and where she is.
Ghosts may be for tomorrow . . .