“It started with the hat. I remember the moment tangibly, as if the memory were dancing on my fingertips, conjured out of thin air. It was at the bottom of the stairs, crooked haphazardly across the railing like a carnival barker’s hat. It enticed me, almost like a remembered sixth sense; I can recall the feeling still now, fingers aching, yearning to grasp that worn fabric as if I had done it a hundred times before.

            It was a quick few wobbles to the stair, one jerky grab of the fist. The weathered brown in my hand, I laughed. It felt so lovely against my skin. Something about it was so gentle and familiar and right, even to my virgin mind. A soft breeze was blowing, wafting my small body to and fro; the sun was kind and warm behind cirrostratus clouds. The grass had been green under my feet a moment ago, but now…now it felt as if it were emerald with this magical hat in my hand. The grass was greener on the other side, perhaps, but I hadn’t a clue what that other side was, just that it resided in this old piece of fabric.

            A laugh escaped me once more, and I threw it across my head. A sharp inhale followed as I felt my eyes dilate, dissociate. It came back. I knew.”