Welcome To The World Again.

From behind the dark blue curtains I could see the last few streaks of sunshine holding on against the approaching darkness of night. I lay still in the small bed, moving only my eyes across the unfamiliar room. The room itself looked as though it belonged to a teenage girl based on the predominantly unshirted heartthrob posters on the wall. I scoffed. Almost all those men were gay and whichever young girl this room belonged to was merely living in a fantasy.

I got up and a sudden wave of lightheadedness gripped me. I sat right back down on the single bed and waited for the disorienting sensation to pass. Feeling better, I stood up and continued my observations upright. 

Against one wall of the room was a small, pink vanity table and chair. Atop the vanity was a bedazzled jar full of makeup brushes and tools. I stooped down to observe my face in the mirror. I looked haggard. Letting out a sigh, I reminded myself that physical appearance was nothing more than vanity. 

Vanity of vanities. All is vanity.

I moved away from the table with its makeup and mirrors and wandered around the room. There was a chipped, white chest of drawers next to the vanity and various necklaces, bracelets and trinkets hung from the knobs. The top of the chest of drawers had a dainty patterned cloth on it and right in the middle of the surface was a framed photograph. I picked it up and held it up to my face. 

The picture was taken at the Grand Canyon. The red, awe-inspiring landscape was distinct and unmistakable. I’d always wanted to go. Redirecting my attention to the people in the picture I was shocked to see that I had in fact already been to the Grand Canyon! 

There I stood with a grin as wide as the gaping canyons holding two thumbs up. My Teenage Mutant Ninja T-shirt and short combo and high top Nike Air Max sneakers reeked off the 90’s. I looked to be about 12 in the picture and I was flanked by a trio of adults. 

The man to my left wore blue jeans, a red polo shirt and a trucker hat. His countenance was stern. Perhaps his sturdy,dark handlebar mustache weighed down his lips from curling upwards into a smile. His eyes were behind a pair of thick rimmed glasses and he stood with his back straight and his tree trunk arms behind him. He struck me as a serious sort of fellow. 

Next to him was a short, stout woman with a swirling nest of red and white hair. She too had thick rimmed glasses on her face but unlike the man to her right, her red lips adorned a sweet smile which wrinkled her whole face pleasantly. She had an arm around my slight shoulders and from out of nowhere, a rush of emotion overcame me. The older woman’s aura hit me through the decades old picture I held and I felt warm and comforted. 

The final person in the picture was indistinguishable to me in terms of their biological sex. They were tall, pale and slender and sported long, dark hair. Their hazel eyes held the mysteries of the whole world. This person wore ripped black jeans and a Slipknot shirt and seemed wholly uninterested in the proceedings at the Grand Canyon.

I looked at each face for a long time. Who were these people? And just when exactly did I go to the Grand Canyon and have this picture taken? I was stumped. 

A knock on the door pulled me out of my stupor. 

“Jackie! Dinner!” came the voice through the door.             

That was me! I’m Jackie! So that was one mystery solved, I was still Jackie and people were still referring to me as such. But  who were these people and where was I? 

 I stood transfixed to the spot, barely breathing. My mind was blank. Another series of knocks against the door,

“Jackie?” 

“Yes! I’ll be right out!” I managed to screech. 

I heard footsteps moving away from the door, signaling that they’d left. I jumped over a pile of beanie babies to get to the blue curtains which I yanked back frantically. The sun was mostly gone from the cloudy sky and the night darkness was still in its infancy. The window looked out into a fenced in backyard. There was a large Chestnut Oak tree with a homemade swing dangling off a large branch in the corner and a fire pit in the middle of the yard.

There were no bars on the window and I wasn’t precariously high up. I considered jumping and running but was halted by the nagging feeling that I didn’t know where I was. Where exactly would I run to? At least in this candy coated room with bare chested boy bands on the wall there was a pictorial record of my existence. Just outside the closed door was someone who knew me by name. I resolved that this was the best place to start in my quest for answers and clarity. With a big breadth, I opened the door and stepped out into the unknown.

The hallway was lined with framed pictures of the stern faced man and the swirly haired woman. There were also a few pictures of a shaggy dog on the walls alongside some generic artwork; cottages and fields, that sort of thing. 

I heard voices coming in from the dining room and I swallowed hard as I approached. Turning the corner, I laid eyes on the owners of the voices; it was the man and woman from the picture in the room, only much older. 

“There you are! We were about to start without you.” said the woman with the swirly hair. It was exclusively white now but her eyes and lips still smiled as brightly as they did at the Grand Canyon. 

The table set up made it easy to figure out where to sit. I wondered if I looked as bewildered as I felt as I lowered myself into the dining chair to the left of the man and directly across from the pleasant older lady. I offered an ambiguous smile to them both. The man extended his hands outwards, one hand held out to me and the other held out to the woman. She held out her free hand to me. A flash of panic seized me and I stared at the hand with wild eyes. Across from me, I saw the woman take his hand and hold it while bowing her head. I copied her and took hold of their hands.

“Our everlasting Father in heaven, we thank you for the food before us. May you bless the hands that prepared it and the stomachs that are grateful to receive it. Amen.” the man’s deep voice intoned the quick prayer. 

“Amen!” said the woman in a voice so chipper. 

He kissed her hand before releasing it back to her. He squeezed my hand gently before giving me back mine. 

“Amen?” I hesitated. I was familiar with the concept of religion and prayer though I didn’t recall ever being part of any such activities. My scrambled recollections could at least hint at an aversion to religion but philosophical quandaries were the least of my worries on this day. Before digging into whether God was real or not, I needed to figure out if I was.    

Cutlery tapped on ceramic plates. My stomach snarled. I picked up my fork and ate. 

Dinner was mashed potatoes, baked chicken and sauteed green beans. I wolfed down my food. The sensation of hunger and knowing that I craved food comforted and grounded me immensely. Nothing made sense except the unmistakable pangs of hunger. At least I knew that! 

 It was now plainly obvious that something was up, either with my brain and mind or with the world around me. I woke up in a room that looked like it belonged to a sixteen year old in 2002 as a full fledged adult in 2022. There was a photo of young me at the Grand Canyon with an ensemble of people, none of which I could name. And I was presently shoveling forkfuls of mashed potato into my mouth with two out of the three strangers from that picture of unknown origin. 

Bon appetite I thought to myself.    

“Take a breadth young lady!” the man chuckled as he ate his meal in the way of the civilized. I paused and realized I was leaning over my plate as I ate, presumably to shorten the distance between plate and mouth. Embarrassed, I sat up and slowed down the pace. 

“There’s more in the kitchen if you’re still hungry, love.” said the woman as she dabbed at the corners of her lips with a napkin. 

“Thank you,” I smiled and nodded, taking her up on her offer. She reached across the table and took my plate. 

“How did you sleep? You were out for an awfully long time.” the woman said as she walked into the kitchen to get me seconds. 

“I slept OK…I think. Even though I look like I’ve been in the wars.” I smiled weakly and became deeply conscious of my unkempt state. 

The woman reappeared with my plate. 

“Oh you’re fine, dear. Nothing a hot shower, moisturizer and a smile can’t help.” 

She was being nice. I needed a miracle. 

“Besides, you should see your Great Uncle Ted when he gets up.” she nudged her husband playfully. 

“Hey!” he threw his hands up in objection. “You said you loved my face in the morning!” 

“I misspoke.” she replied as she took a sip of water. 

Their banter was easy and amusing. My tense shoulders relaxed a little and I pondered on how to go forward. Tentatively, I asked questions to hopefully understand what exactly was going on. 

“How long was I asleep for?” I asked casually as I poked at my chicken. I hoped to keep fear out of my voice. 

“Oh gosh, you went to lie down around 8 o’ clock at night yesterday,” she started. 

“It was closer to 9.” Great Uncle Ted chimed. He sat with his clasped hands under his chin and his elbows on the table.    

“So about 9 last night to 5 this evening. How many hours is that? Mental math is not my strong suit.” the woman says. 

“I was asleep for 19 hours?!” I couldn’t keep the shock out of my voice.

“Yes, give or take. Seemed like you needed every single hour.” She began gathering dishes and Uncle Ted helped her.   

Hitherto, I had attempted to ask probing questions in as nonchalant a manner as I could manage so as to not raise suspicion that I was truly and utterly clueless. Quickly this plan was unraveling as the emotion in my voice belied me. 

“I just don’t get how I could be that tired. I’ve never been that tired before.” A kind of frustration was boiling up in me. It really was inconvenient to not know shit. Just then I caught a look shared between the couple. It was a “do we tell her?” sort of look. They knew stuff. I jumped all over it.

“What? What’s going on?” my eyes darted from her to him. 

Uncle Ted sighed and the woman (whose name I still did not know) gestured for us to all sit in the living room. I pushed my chair back and it protested against the polished hardwood floor. I walked sideways, watching the pair like a distrustful crab. 

In the living room I sat in a single brown chair and the couple sat side by side on the loveseat next to it. The colors of Fall were well represented and it gave the whole room a warm, cozy feel. My shoulders were tense again and I scanned my surroundings for potential weapons. There was a small side table to the right of my chair and on it was an accordion shaded lamp and a copy of The Illustrated Practical Guide to Gardening for Seniors by Patty Cassidy. If I had to knock someone out, I thought, it’d have to be done with the lamp. 

I watched the couple. Yes, they looked like an ordinary, sweet older couple but was it possible that they were nefarious criminals that had drugged me and kept me holed up in a room with a shrine dedicated to the 90’s boy band Dream Street! There was every chance in the world that the latter was the case. I watched them like a hawk as they went back and forth on who was going to unravel my personal mystery for me. The swirly haired woman with finality gave her husband a nudge in the belly and the man grumbled.

“OK! OK! I’ll tell her.” he shifted in his seat and sat forward, leaning his still very tree trunk like arms on his knees. He looked at me directly and started speaking.         

“It’s a bit of a long story, so buckle up. Now, I know you probably feel different…a little off. That’s normal and frankly it’d be more concerning if you didn’t feel odd. I am your Great Uncle Ted. This here is my wife, Madelin." At this juncture he turned his body and gestured with an arm at her, as though there was a possibility I’d think he was talking about someone else. Madelin smiled and waved a little wave. 

“Your Aunt Madelin and I are your guardians for this part of your experience. We knew about your arrival long before you entered our front door.”