I woke up standing in the backyard
of the house I lived in when I was
fourteen. I was looking up at the window
where my brothers and I shared a bedroom.

I don’t know why I expected the light
to be on. I hadn’t lived there in forty-five
years. The two-story house, the red brick
facade, the garage with a staircase and attic,

the tall maple trees, the hedges surrounding
the backyard, everything about the yard
and house was as I remembered it. I was
looking up, waiting for the light to come on.

The air felt cool on my face. It must have been
a summer evening. I wish I hadn’t taken
the twenty-dollar bill that I found in
the top drawer of my parent’s dresser.