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you please come inside for a while to sit and rest?" I complied, but if my mom had known this, she'd have wrung my neck and said, "Who cares about a squeaky, old deck?" Still, when deja vu comes to you, there's nothing you can do but to go with the moment to feel the mystery and the need to solve it.

I went inside, and to my surprise, even her things seemed alarmingly familiar. Granted, she had some things that reminded me of my great grandmother's home. It was cozy and warm, so by the time I sat on her sofa, she had already asked me if I'd like something to drink. "I've just made some hot tea." She smiled at me so sweetly that it felt as if she knew me, but then again, she seemed to be something between a friend and a parent. I don't know why, but she actually began to call me by a name that wasn't the same as mine. For reasons that seem strange, I didn't mind. Old people get names rearranged all the time.

Together, we sipped our tea and chatted about nothing in particular. We might have discussed the weather, for all I can remember, but I do recall that she told me she'd been blind for a very long time. She seemed lonely and I wondered if her home felt as if it was a prison. Still, she seemed happy and pleased, "to see me," ironically, and before I left I felt as if I'd found a treasure. The funny thing is that she said the same thing when she gave me a hug and a kiss on the cheek. That's when I knew that deja vu is a sign of truth and leads to treasures beyond measure. I thought I saw a tear in her eye when she waved good bye. Still, I drove back home and never saw her or her home again. Or, did I?

WHAT DEJA VU MEANS: THE VISION OF TRUTH

I can't say that I ever thought of that lady again, until recently, that is. It was as if deja vu came back to me, but it took me some time to remember why. Then, when I remembered what I thought I forgot, I almost cried as I hoped and prayed that old, blind lady was reminded of me too. She, alone in her home, arrived in my life for a moment in time and helped me to see through wiser eyes than mine could have been as a teen, with only the feeling of deja vu to lead me to the truth.

You see, I too became a blind, old lady, but then again, I'm fifty-two, which is probably the same age that lady was when I found her as a teen. Since then, I now see that teens don't have a clue what, "old," means, I can still see some things, and I'm only blind legally, which means my home sometimes feels like a prison for me. It's lonely to be

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