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In this small town, my family and I had lived at several places, before settling down in a house on Pennsylvania Ave. A very quiet neighborhood, my folks quickly made friends with those all around.
In the house on the left of ours lived an old woman named Lucy. She and my parents got along splendidly. Her husband had died about two years prior1, and having no family close by, we became sort of a surrogate family. Lucy and her husband had bought their house and property in the 1940's. Her husband loved to tinker around the house and yard, but the yard was his real passion. He gave meticulous2 care all year long, while she would type letters to distant relatives about the progress being made.
Lucy's husband brought the yard to a beautiful state. Everybody admired and remarked on its condition. When he died Lucy thought it befitting to spread his ashes in the back yard, the place where he had spent countless3 hours. But after some time Lucy was convinced4 that her husband had come back to his yard. She was especially frightened of the sprawling5 back yard where he had spent many daylight hours. Lucy would tell us of hearing the sound of footsteps6 coming across the grass or of someone or something tapping her on the shoulder. So she would try and avoid that area stating simply "it just spooks me out."
Over the next several years were lonely times for Lucy. We often had her at our house for family functions, but it didn't quite make up for losing a loved one. She spent the majority of her time typing letters on an old typewriter to family and friends. During the spring and summer months when we had our windows open, we could hear her busily typing away.
When Lucy died the house remained vacant7 for a long time. Before the new owners were to take over, my Father did some repair work inside. He often said he heard footsteps on the old hardwood floors. But we all knew something was happening when we heard the unmistakable striking8 of typewriter keys. Lucy had come back to type her ghostly letters. I guess you could say that neither Lucy nor her husband was going to give up the things they loved the most!
在我们居住的这个小镇上，我家已经搬了好几个地方，直到我们终于在宾西法尼亚大街的一所房子安定了下来。这里的邻居都很平易近人，很快父亲母亲就和他们交上了朋友。
我家左边住着一位老太太，名字叫露西，我们的关系相处得尤其的好。她丈夫两年前去世了，附近也没有其他家人，我家几乎就成了她的代理人。露西夫妇在四十年代就买下了这所房子和土地，她丈夫很喜欢把房子和屋后的小院粗粗拉拉的修补一番，但是那个小院可是他生命中的寄托。多年来他精心的照料着院子里的一草一木，而露西就在屋里给远方的亲戚写信，讲述这边生活的点点滴滴。
小院在露西丈夫的打理之下显得格外漂亮，人们都不免对那里品头论足，夸奖称赞一番。他去世以后，露西决定就把他的骨灰撒在这个占据了他生命中无数时间的院子里。但是一段时间过后，露西确信她丈夫又回到了他的小院。而此时这个曾经让他日夜不离的地方已经是杂草丛生，露西觉得很害怕。她告诉我们说听到了有脚步声在院里的草坪上踱来踱去，还感觉到有人或是什么东西轻轻地拍她的肩膀。于是，她就努力再也不到那个闹鬼的地方去。
接下来的几年里露西就这样孤孤单单的生活着，我们经常请她过来参加我们的家庭会议，但是这对于失去爱人的她来说是于事无补的。她依然成天的用那台古老的打字机给家人和朋友写信。春天夏天的时候只要我们一打开窗户便能听到打字机忙碌的声音。
露西去世后，房子空了好长一段时间。新房东搬进去之前，父亲进去做了一些修缮的工作。他说经常听到有人在老的硬木地板上走路的声音。我们也都知道那里确实是发生了什么，因为我们又听见了熟悉的打字机发出的声音。露西回来写信了。你应该会说，露西夫妇都割舍不下他们一生中的挚爱吧，我想是这样的。
资源编号：ZY1675310；资源类别：(英语基础资料)；收集时间：2020-06-03；资源参考链接
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