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Curiosity brought me to this place, but fear made me want to leave it. I stood outside the patchwork tent, the words "Madame Zircona" brightly painted on the sign above the entrance. I swallowed and began to wonder if this was such a good idea. Before I could turn to leave, a woman with grey hair piled atop her head and accented with tiny silver stars closed the distance between the tent and me. Her maroon, crimson, and jade robes billowed about her hidden legs, but it was her eyes that kept me entranced. They pierced the humid August air and stopped the intake of air to my lungs.

"Come, my child," she said in what I thought to be a Russian accent. Mesmerized, I followed her into the tent. The aura of mystery drew me in similar to those in the movies, and could not make my legs turn and run away.

"Many of us wish to relive out past," she continued, sitting on a pink and gold cushion in front of a crystal ball. I sat opposite her on a navy pillow, also edged in gold. The inside of the tent sparkle with gold and silver charms hanging from every inch of the ceiling. Her voice brought my eyes back to hers. "We wonder if it’s possible and if we made the right decisions. If we could do it all again, would we? Or would we change something?"

I nodded, surprised at her knowledge of my wishes.

"Take this under the next full moon with a glass of lemonade and you’ll know."

"Th..Thank you." I stammered and took the small treasure chest she offered me. I gave her the twice-folded five-dollar bill I had clenched in my sweaty palm. She placed it in an inner pocket.

"Is there anything else you’d like to know?" she asked. "Boy or girl perhaps?" I looked down at my semi-swollen stomach, hastily covered by a large t-shirt.

"No, my husband and I would rather be surprised." I rose and turned to leave, but a question entered my mind and I turned back. The words escape my lips.

"Is there anything you wonder?" She gave me a gentle smile and nodded.

"I wonder exactly how much of our lives we really remember." She ushered me out of the tent, her eyes traveling to some distant place or time. "And how many memories we make up."

I pondered her final statement, but, being unable to make any sense of it, I turned to the questions that had plagued me for the past few weeks. I wondered if John really was the one, if getting married at only 19 was such a good idea. Most of all, I wanted to know if it was too early to have a baby, if I was prepared for it, or if I could give it all the care it needed. I wanted to be a good mother and a good wife, but I was not sure if I could. I wonder if I had rushed into things, if I should have done something different.

These questions continued to circle in my head all through dinner and the rest of the evening. As I laid my head on John’s should, his arms encircled my waist to give comfort. He knew something was bothering me, but also that I did not want to talk about it.

"It’s okay," he whispered. "I love you."

The next morning I went through my routine as usual, and John gave me an extra-big hug and dipped me as we kissed. I smiled and waved while he got in the car and drove away to work. Once he was out of sight, I raced to the bedroom and took the box out of my top dresser drawer. I was almost surprised to see it, the night before seemed so much like a dream. I opened it to find a small purple pull sitting on a robin’s egg blue pillow. That night would be a full moon.

The housework took all day even though our house was so small. John’s parent has put down a large down payment as a wedding present. Usually I cleaned as quickly, so I could spend time wandering around the rooms, amazed and happy at finally having a house of my own. Today, however, I constantly paused in the middle of working while my mind wandered upstairs to the box in my dresser drawer. In between task, I raced upstairs to make sure it was still there.

I finished making dinner right as John came home. The potatoes were fine, but I burnt the chicken. John just gave me a hug, saying it was delicious and that the black part just gave it more flavor. He had more confidence in me than I had in myself.

So why did I take the pill? Maybe it was because I did not realize this at the time. Maybe because I was blind to how much he loved me. Maybe married life and worries caused me to forget how much I loved him. Somehow, I was convinced there was something wrong. I fell asleep confident whatever it was would be fixed by taking the item in the treasure box.

But I did not even know what the capsule was supposed to do. At first, I was worried that it might make me miscarry my baby and I was so worried that every day for a week I went to the doctor to make sure it was okay. Relieved to hear each time that nothing was wrong, I began to think that maybe it was a trick and would not do anything. Then strange things started happening.

I started having déjB vu more and more often until it was almost every single day. I had a strange feeling I had lived it all before. John suspected I was going through mood swings due to the pregnancy and sent me a bouquet of yellow roses. Normally, I would have thought the same and been overjoyed over the flowers, but even though he had never sent me yellow flowers before, I knew the color before I even opened the box.

A voice developed in my head that sounded like me, yet it was different. The things it said did not make any sense at all. I burnt the green beans, but the voice said it did not matter anyway because I was not here; I was in an insanity asylum in New York.

This voice began to scare me. One night I had this horrible feeling that I was alone and the voice cried out: "John! John! Where’s my John?" I tried to calm it down by thinking he is right here. The voice must have sounded aloud because John kissed my forehead and stroked my hair.

"It’s okay," he whispered. "I’m right here and I love you."

That calmed me enough to sleep that night, but over the next week, it worsened. I caught myself crying out in the middle of the night "Where’s Ricky? Where is my little baby? Where’s my son?" It did not make any sense: I had not had my baby yet. It was still in me, where else could it be?

That the baby had a name worried me, so I went to the doctor. John and I had decided to name it Ann if it was a girl and either Timothy or Richard if it was a boy. After explaining to the doctor that we no longer wanted the gender to be a secret, he revealed that it was indeed a boy.

I was so upset and became convinced I was insane. John said it was hormones, but I believed it to be the voice. After hearing it sound repeatedly in my head, I almost believed the asylum in New York existed and I was convinced I was a danger not only to myself, but also to John and the baby.

After speaking with a doctor about the voice and my concern about the baby, we discussed where to send me. The doctor spoke of an asylum in Pennsylvania with good facilities and fairly close to home, but then he mentioned one in New York and I stopped him there. I decided that if I went where the voice was telling me, I might get some answers. It helped that it was more affordable and much closer than the one in Pennsylvania. John would be able to visit every weekend and sometimes during the week. He really did not want me to be alone in a strange place, but I told him this is what I wanted. I did not want to hurt him, but the look in his eyes when they took me away told me I already had.

The room was all white with only a bed and small nightstand with drawers. If I were not already crazy, living in this room for an extended amount of time would make me so. There was a single window made of thick glass, unable to be broken by anything I could throw against it. The whole place seemed familiar, but the window attracted my attention. The sun had set and as there was no mirror in the room, I went to it to see my reflection. What I saw scared me.

A woman of almost 40 stared back at me, dressed as I was and pregnant. I screamed and the staff came running. The reflection wavered to my own and did not give signs of changing back to the strange woman, but I made them put a curtain over it anyway.

That night I slept uneasily and woke up in the middle of the night to pace. The man keeping watch in the hall knocked on the door asked if I was okay. I opened the window in the door, looked at him for a moment, and remembered him as one of the orderlies the staff introduced me to, yet I cried out.

"Who are you? Where’s warren?"

"I am Warren," the man said curiously, and I knew he was right. The voice in me, however, called out unrestrained.

"No, no you aren’t. Warren’s much much older." I was stunned speechless at these words and when I regained my tongue, I apologized repeatedly. He nodded and tried to calm me down. I tried to sleep, and I must have succeeded because I woke up the next morning.

Or at least I think it was the next morning, but everything was different. The voice I had head in my head was now the voice that was me and the voice that seemed to be me the night before was now only the fading voice of memory. I tore down the curtain and looked at my reflection. It was the reflection of the almost 40 year old, but I knew it was my own.

I had just relived the first 19 and some years of my life. It was the right decision to marry John, the right decision to have the baby. But where were they?

"John!" I cried out. "Where’s my John? Where is my baby? Where’s Ricky?" The orderlies tried to calm me, but I through a fit until they called John and he was on his way. I paced the entire half hour it took for him to arrive. I ran and held him tight.

"I’m so sorry it took me so long," I said. "I’m so sorry. And now we won’t be able to have those five children you wanted."

He looked at me confused, and then called:

"Kids, come say hello to Mommy." I stared as one by one four children entered the room. I said their names in my head as John said them aloud. "Richard, Little John, Ann, and timothy." He turned to me and motioned. "And number five." I looked down at my stomach in amazement.

"But how?" I asked.

You came out for a few weeks at a time and we thought you were better, but then you’d talk to me as if I was someone else, and we knew you weren’t."

"Oh, John," I said, holding him again. "I’m so sorry."

"It’s okay," he said. "I love you." For the first time, I replied the same, meaning it with every once, every particle of my being. I felt him look up.

"Is she cured now, Dr. Zircona?" Hearing this name, I turned and saw a familiar face, even older than before, and in a white lab coat instead of robes. "Can she leave?"

"No," the woman said. "Her question’s been answered, but mine hasn’t yet." I felt a sudden sharp pain in my arm from a need. Two orderlies held back my husband, my one and only love. I reached out to him as the darkness closed in.

"John!"