by Angela Kay Pineda
My daughter and I one day went to our town cemetery, to visit the grave of a recently deceased neighbor.
Lost in the big cemetery, we looked for the grave. With no luck, we just started to leave. Just before we left, I noticed a small grave with the name and date of a five year old boy, the grave had a few toys placed on it. One of the toys was a glass figurine of a clown. It had turned over and broke. I picked up the pieces, and took them home. That night I glued the broken clown back together.
The next morning, my daughter and I returned the glass figurine to the grave and weeded it. Then, we went home and went on with our day.
That night, while I slept, I was awakened by humming. I opened my eyes, and there, right beside my bed about three feet away and surrounded by a pleasing blueish-grey light, was a little boy about five years old, healthy looking, dressed in overalls and a long sleeve shirt. He had tan skin, and big brown eyes and long brown hair. He was humming the song Yankee Doodle Dandy (why that song, I don't know).
As I looked at him, I felt very peaceful and not scared at all. He looked at me, and his stare seemed to tell me, "Thank you for fixing my toy," and the boy just disappeared.
I never saw him again, but I often remember that night, and think of that little boy.