“Are you lost?” She asks me, as I wonder around this house with a face of pure remembrance. Brand new house on Joplin St and somehow I just knew I had been here before. The walls were seagull feather white and the blinds, the color of a freshly brewed espresso. “No, I saw the sign that read open house, and I just wanted to come in and take a look.” I was lying. Even though I had seen the sign outside, there was a stronger force that pulled me in and I couldn’t resist the urge to see what had seemed so familiar. I was just standing there, in the middle of the room waiting for the walls to talk. I wanted them to reveal themselves and stop acting as though they had come from some long forgotten dream. I had so many questions for this real estate woman but I knew she couldn’t give me the answers I so desperately needed. My mind is questioning my presence here but somehow my body knows that it has been here before, It has slept here and made memories here and its gravitational pull is fighting for me to just please remember. I walk up mahogany stairs, smooth as peach tea in Georgia and I sit down on the 9th step and I know that I live up the street, but how is that possible when I know this home? The real estate woman walks up to me and in seeing me locked in a trance she says: “Mam, we are getting ready to lock up. its 9 pm” and I snap out of it, smile, and walk to the door. And as I step out I shed a tear, because although I can’t seem to put my finger on it, I know that once upon a time this place meant something to me.