Kitchen Ghost

Nationality: American

Age: 59

Primary Language: English

Residence: San Antonio, Texas


“Here’s my ghost story. It’s really nothing earth shattering and it’s quite short. But a few years ago when Mom was away and all three of you were with her… I can’t remember where y’all were, but you were out of town and I was home by myself for about three days. Maybe you guys were at the cabin, and I think I had to come back for some work stuff. Anyway, I was living life as normal and one night when I was sitting in the big leather chair by the windows in our living room with the TV on, just vegging and looking at my phone – I think I was looking at Facebook posts – I was deep in thought reading posts and looking at my phone and someone walked out of our master bedroom. It was a woman. She said ‘hey’ as she walked to the kitchen. I replied ‘hey’ and kept looking at my phone. I think subconsciously I was just in the mode of being at home when everyone is at home, and I think subconsciously I just assumed it was your mom. Anyway, I just kept looking at my phone for a couple minutes and then the same person walked back into the master bedroom and said ‘hey’… I replied ‘hey’. That’s when I broke out of my Facebook trance and thought to myself, Uhhh, wait… what?! I realized there was nobody home, yet I just replied to someone twice. So I got up and very cautiously went into the bedroom and then into the master bathroom, and there was no one there. Very freaky. I’ve often wondered if I just imagined the entire thing, but it seemed so real. Real enough that I vocally did say the word ‘hey’ twice. That’s it! That’s the whole story.”


This informant is my father, and his ghost story takes place in my childhood home.


In class (and readings), we’ve discussed ghosts as representations of family and ownership, and I believe this is one of those instances. My family and I are all very close, and we’ve lived in my childhood home for 15 years now. My father is so used to seeing me, my mom, my brother, and my sister around the house, he didn’t think twice when he heard someone say “hey”, even when none of us were in the house with him. Regardless of whether or not the ghost actually existed, I believe my father’s perception of this “kitchen ghost” was an outward expression of his comfortability with the establishment of our house and household. In the absence of me and the rest of my family, his perception of the ghost “filled in the gaps”.