The Nanny

I want to tell another story. It should be fun.


Up until I turned 12, I remembered my adoptive mother always working and never had any time for me. It would always be either my grandparents taking care of me,

or a nanny that I grew up with.


She was a beautiful woman with a gorgeous smile. Her skin was dark and her eyes were always tired. The bags under her eyes gave away how much effort she put into keeping me company. She never really offered me any food or snacks though, but would always remind me when to eat, to sleep, and when to pray. (I was a Buddhist. Praying before bedtime is somewhat a mandatory thing for most families.)

Anyway, she also did many odd things though.

She told me to not talk about her to my family because they hate her for having dark skin. (My family is racist.) She said she was employed to be my nanny simply because she didn’t have any other qualifications. It all made sense because she’d never be there when my grandparents or my other living family was around.

I thought it was an awful treatment they were giving her.

Up until 12, I never said anything about her. I never acknowledged her when she was standing there in the corner of my eye when I was eating. I never said goodbye to her when my grandparents were taking me to school. I don’t think I ever hugged her at all which made me sad. She was so nice.

At 12, I looked around the house after the house got blessed by the monks after my grandpa passing away.

I never saw her again. I was looking for her. My grandma asked who I was looking for and I told her, “I’m looking for my nanny. Obviously. You never liked her.” And my grandma threw a freakout fit. She practically dragged me to one of the monks and asked him to spray some holy water on me and pray for me.

I was confused as fuck?

Turned out, there was no nanny. There was never anyone else in the house other than my grandparents and me while others were at work. I’d be mostly left by the television as the nanny. There was no dark skin woman. It was just always me by myself.


Negligence is horrible, but is it better than to not have any ghost nanny at all?

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *