I was in my early twenties, and I was striking out on my own after a divorce. Moving back to my parent's home was out of the question. Getting away from the dysfunctional family was the reason I had married in the first place. It wasn't the correct reason to marry, but that really has no bearing on this story.

I managed to find a neat little two bedroom apartment in the small Louisiana town that I grew up in. I didn't have much, but I began moving my things into this apartment.

Two weeks prior to moving into the apartment, my first cousin and I visited a married couple that was friends of hers. This was my first time making their acquaintance, but my cousin and I spent a pleasant afternoon visiting. This little tidbit will become more relevant as the story continues.

It was summer when I moved into this apartment. The first weekend after I moved in, I started the task of unpacking my belongings. The Saturday was warm, but pleasant, so I opened the front door, making sure that the screen door was latched. I also opened the front window. I happily busied myself with putting things away in my kitchen.

I was humming a cute little tune to myself, and suddenly a man's voice called my name. The voice sounded vaguely familiar, but still I could not place it. I walked to the front door to see who could possibly be coming to visit. There wasn't a soul to be seen. I looked out of the window, but there was not a person to be seen anywhere. I just shrugged it off as my imagination and went back to the task at hand.

A few minutes passed, and again, I heard a man's voice calling my name. I was somewhat puzzled now, so again, I walked to the front door only to find that there was nobody there. I unlatched the screen door, stepped onto the porch, and looked around. I thought to myself, "Hmmm. That's strange." I hesitated for a moment, but then walked back inside, latched the screen door, and returned to my chores.

Suddenly, I was overwhelmed with a deep feeling of sadness, as though someone had died. The feeling just swept over me, and I began to cry. I cried for a few moments, and then I chided myself. "Look, girl. You've got to get a hold of yourself. You're just tired, and you've made a major life change. Get a grip." As suddenly as the feeling had come, it left me, and I went back to my chores.

Roughly thirty minutes later, my first cousin called me on the phone. The first words out of her mouth were, "Girl!! Guess who died?" She named the man that we had visited just two weeks before. At the moment, all I could say was, "You're kidding!"

Suddenly I went speechless. At that moment in time, I KNEW beyond a shadow of a doubt who the phantom was that had been calling my name. My cousin informed me that this gentleman had been killed in a motorcycle accident at the exact same time that I had been overwhelmed with the feeling of sadness.

I don't remember much of the conversation that transpired between me and my cousin that afternoon after my revelation. To this very day, I still have no idea why or how this happened to me. I didn't even know this man very well, and I had never given him much thought after our visit. There is still no doubt in my mind that it was his voice I heard that day and I felt the sadness at his moment of death. I will never forget this as long as I live.