I was about 18 years old, so this would've been around July, 1977. We lived in a "shotgun" style house in Chula Vista, California. We suffered from "poltergeist" activity: We used to lose things, we would feel tugging on our clothes, and the radio would switch on and off by itself, but on only one occasion did anyone actually see anything.
It was a summer afternoon, and I had the front door open. I was at the back of the long room, which was living room, dining room and office all together. I was on the phone with a friend when I heard a voice at the front door. It was my aunt. I said, "I'm over here," and told my friend I would call back later.
My aunt walked over to where I was and asked about my mom. I told her everyone had gone out and I was home alone. As I said that, I saw a small boy in white T-shirt and white shorts walk behind her and enter the kitchen. My cousin Mickey was about five years old at that time, so I assumed it was him.
She gave me a message for my mom and started to leave when I said, "What about Mickey?" She looked at me kind of strange and said, "He was watching cartoons and didn't want to come with me."
I asked, "Then who is in the kitchen?" We went into the kitchen, but no one was there. We went out to the backyard, and no one was there, either. The only way out was through where we were, and we never saw him leave.
She brushed it off as my imagination, but I saw him very clearly. When my mom came home, I told her about it, and she said that it seemed very logical. The stuff we experienced was like the tricks a small child plays.