I don’t really know how it happened. It’s all too fantastic and new. Each time I try to put the words down, I find myself in disbelief…

I have to tell someone, but I’m afraid no one will believe me. I mean, I hardly believe it myself. But this is too much to keep a secret. Can I trust you with my story? Will you suspend disbelief just long enough to join me as we follow the white rabbit into the unknown?

I can’t believe I’m doing this, but…here goes nothing:

I was rummaging around in my parent’s attic. They were married in the mid-1960’s and it’s filled with stuff from their life together. It’s practically a time capsule that maps their journey from the 60s to today. And while I consider myself to be the sentimental type, the attic is kind of overwhelming. It’s particularly overwhelming since my parents are at the stage of life where they need to downsize, and the responsibility of cleaning out all their stuff has fallen on my shoulders.

I share this without any bitterness. I’m happy to help. It’s just…a lot. And with what happened, it feels even bigger. And, frankly, more frightening. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

So, once again, I was in the attic. And it was suffocatingly hot. There’s no air-conditioning, and silly me, I started this project in the summertime. I was trying to take stock of everything in the attic to help me come up with a plan, when my gaze fell on an old suitcase. It was a charming old piece of luggage. Obviously, it had seen many travels, and yet it hadn’t lost it’s luster. The suitcase was tucked away in a corner, behind several boxes. I don’t even know how I noticed it so quickly. Except that…I don’t know how else to put it, but it *called* to me. It simply seemed to whisper my name, but in my head (if that makes any sense.)

I HAD to get to that suitcase. In fact, at that moment, I felt as though it were the most precious thing in the whole attic. Although I don’t remember seeing it during my childhood, it made me feel intensely nostalgic: that suitcase was coming home with me. Besides, it would be one thing out of the attic and one less thing for my parents to worry about.

Instead of sorting and organizing, I spent the afternoon clearing a path to the elusive suitcase. And I found myself daydreaming of finding treasure inside of it. With each step, the humming in my brain grew more intense, more focused, until at last the suitcase was at my feet. I was positively beaming. This may have been magnified by the sweat pouring off my brow, but that mattered little compared to the accomplishment of reaching my prize.

I knelt down by the suitcase and reached toward it with anticipation, but when I touched it, nothing happened. In fact, the humming or the calling to me that I had experienced (or imagined) just moments before seemed to dissipate and I realized that there wasn’t really anything special about this suitcase. When I lifted it up, it was light: nothing inside. I could feel the disappointment welling up inside of me, but I couldn’t tell you why. I don’t know what I was expecting.

When the disappointment hit me, I also realized just how uncomfortable I was. I had to get out of the attic and get some fresh air. I stood up and turned on my heels, thinking that I’d come back another day when it wasn’t so hot, but when I took a step away from the suitcase, the humming began again.

I stopped short and slowly turned my gaze back to the suitcase. It felt like it didn’t want me to leave it there.
 
At this point I remember realizing I was biting my lip. Hard. Then, with the aplomb of jumping feet first over a waterfall, I snatched the suitcase and made my way to the attic door.

Holding the suitcase in my hand felt good. The discomfort that was caused by the humming was now replaced with the most pleasant surge of endorphins and serotonin I’ve experienced in my adult life. It felt like a reward, and by the stupid grin on my face, I guess you could say I accepted it.

When I reached the threshold that separated the house proper from the attic and peered down the accordion ladder, I felt a little shudder. Heights aren’t always my favorite thing but I had traversed this precipice many times since childhood, and so I balanced myself and my precious cargo and took a cautious step down the ladder and then another.

That’s when everything went sideways. At the exact moment that I took my second step, the suitcase suddenly became heavy. I mean, incredibly heavy. The sudden increase of weight caused me to topple headfirst down the stairs. Internally, I braced myself for the impact, and accepted that there were going to be bruises and probably broken bones. Although the accordion ladder wasn’t particularly tall, I felt as though I was falling for a long time. Falling and falling and falling…until everything went black. I don’t remember hitting the ground…

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