I'm a believer in things you can't explain - although I guess being Catholic, it comes into my nature - and sometimes, I even believe that I have a sort of sixth-sense if you will, often having deja-vu's from dreams, eerie coincidences, or knowing when something's going to happen going on a gut instinct. I know no one of my family who has had experiences like this before where I inherit it from, although I know that my sister was quite sensitive to the paranormal when she was my age, although now her abilities have sort of closed off.

I wasn't the normal kid. I didn't play tea with my dolls, or have imaginary friends. But I do believe that the house I grew up in until around six years of age housed a ghostly guardian.

First, let me tell you a bit about the history of the house. It was a design my father (who is, oddly enough, a computer programmer) built for our family, and was constructed a bit before my birth. I was born into the house, you could say. Since the house is new, it has no history of manifestations. But the location it was built upon does.

In the Philippines (where I was born) there was some sort of war between the Japanese and the Filipinos. I was born in 1985, so those events were probably long past. We lived in this little neighborhood that had streets so tiny, cars could just barely pass through. It was a friendly place, kids crowding the streets, sort of like a Dennis the Menace backdrop. But during the time of war (at least this is what my mother told me) Japanese and Filipino soldiers used to make tunnels to crawl through underground, and this neighborhood was no exception. Many people died in that war, many violent deaths. Men and women alike.

Back to the story. As I said, the house was built shortly before I was born. Well after I was brought home from the hospital (fast forward some months) my nanny (expect to find a lot of those in Manila) was bringing me upstairs to place in the crib, or change my diaper or *something*. According to my parents, she saw something. A woman dressed in all while, long black hair, standing atop of the staircase. This freaked her out completely, and she ran to the bedroom, where she began to shriek for my older sister (the one who has also had a lot of supernatural occurrences). My sister, let's call her Anne, ran upstairs and asked the nanny what was wrong. When the nanny asked my sister if she had seen anyone while coming up, my sister said no. So I guess the sitter blamed it all on her imagination, but that wasn't the end of it.

I know that there were many occurrences, all happening at the corner of my eye. I have never seen her right in front of me, like my nanny did, but the last time I saw her is still very vivid in my mind.

I was home from school, eating lunch, when my nanny (she's my favorite, I call her Yaya) went upstairs to fold some sheets for my mom. As a little kid, I didn't want to eat, but I was doing it because my Yaya would've been disappointed if I didn't. I remember glancing over at our screen door (it's very hot in the Philippines) and seeing the White Lady one last time. She was outside of the house this time, not inside where I usually saw her, and was just sort of watching over me. Her long black hair was blowing in the wind, and as I turned to go force feed myself, I immediately realized that she was there. I turned back, and she was gone.

A few months later, we moved out of the house and immigrated to Canada. I have never been back in that house, although on a visit to go to my Grandmother's funeral, I stood outside it, just watching. Many things have changed, but I know that if I went back in again, she would be gone. Somehow, I just know that when we left, she did too, hopefully gone up to Heaven.

I don't know the history of that war very well, and I can't explain what I saw. My family doesn't believe that I saw anyone there, chalking it up to my lively imagination. But I believe that seeing the White Lady opened up a gift that God gave me, helping me to use a sense that most are unfortunate to be unable to use.

There are many stories from that house that our family has shared with each other, but the White Lady is an experience I will never forget.