Deja vu

Ok google… what is reincarnation? “Here is the definition of reincarnation, the rebirth of a soul in a new body.” Interesting. That was the only word that caught my attention during my teacher's hour lecture. Thankfully my mom walked in and told her she could go home early. I believe she saw the agony in my face.

Oh wait a minute, I haven’t introduced myself, I'm Sarah. I am honored to be in your presence... well in your head actually I guess that’s cool too. Everyone has difficulty believing I am only seven years old. I have a vocabulary bigger than some “adults," so I understand why that may be. My intellectual abilities led to homeschooling. Public school was icky and frankly boring. Since we were pretty well off my parents just made a few adjustments to better fit my needs. My mother is a work from home tech supervisor, and my dad owns a general contracting company where he flips houses and sells them highly overpriced. People somehow buy into it, and my dad profits well from it. My mom is a very intelligent, caring, kind person, and my dad has a tough exterior with a sprinkle of a soft interior, and highly opinionated, which comes with some ignorance.

Recently I was eavesdropping as some would say, but I see as casually walking by their bedroom, stopping, listening, and over hearing a disagreement. My mom was upset that this new project my dad and his crew were about to start was near the opposite end of the U.S. We stayed in Manhattan, New York and this project was in Sandyfield, Georgia. We traveled pretty often, but we had never gone to southern states. I did some reading about it, and the weather seemed a lot warmer than what we were used to.

Sitting at the kitchen island I was doing further research, but the sound of heavy steel-toe boots and slightly high pitched taps of heels coming my way interrupted me. I knew I had not done anything troublesome lately, so this meeting had to be about what I “overheard.”

“So… your dad and I have decided that we are temporarily staying near your father’s new site in Sandyfield which is in the state of Georgia” mom said. This wasn't the first time we had traveled with my dad and his crew. In past times we would stay in big beautiful luxury hotels, and my homeschool teacher Miss Marett would come along with us. Even though this was in a different city and state it couldn't be that bad could it?

Oh but it could… I was initially excited about being in a hotel again with room service and no cleaning... well at least not for me. My hopes slowly died as I was told we were getting closer to our destination. While loosening the resistance from my seat belt and leaning forward separating my back from my booster seat, I peered out the window only to see more and more rows of trees and fields. To the right of me past the mountain of snacks was Miss Marett looking out the right window with a smile that went from ear to ear. She probably could barely hold her tongue ready to explode into a science lesson about ecosystems or a history lesson about the American Revolution.

"We're here" my dad said, interrupting my thoughts! My mom woke up from her nap, looked around and said, "here where, what is this?" She stole the words right out my mouth. If we were looking at the same thing, she saw an old run-down building complex with a matching sign that said Welcome to the Cottage. The g in the word cottage was nowhere to be found, and the rest of the letters were hanging on for dear life. My mom gave my dad the death stare for a good thirty seconds before Miss Marett said, "come on Sarah let's go for a walk." I wanted to stay and watch world war three, but I didn't protest and we walked to a nearby park.

The park was surprisingly not an eyesore. The trees reminded me of the park back home. There was one tree I couldn't help but gravitate towards. Standing under it looked as if it never ended. I ran around the tree until I couldn't bear the dizziness. As I fell to the ground, my hand ran across a narrow opening with a non bark-like texture. It felt like a weathered piece of cloth. After I regained my composure I looked for that same spot. When I found it, I saw a thin narrow rectangular hole and something covered in really thin cloth was on the inside of it. My fingers were the perfect size to pull it out. I unwrapped it even though the cloth was so fragile it was already tearing, and in my hands revealed a little black book.

Slightly engraved on the front cover, the book read To My Future Self. Before I could open the book, we heard the car doors shut. I hid the book inside my inner jacket pocket. As Miss Marett and I got closer to the car we saw my dad unloading the luggage. 'We're staying,"I said disappointed. "Cheer up champ, unfortunately this was the best I could do. It is the only motel or hotel in a forty mile radius of the work site," my dad explained.

On the inside the Motel wasn't as bad as the outside. We were greeted by a nice black woman which my dad wasn't too fond of, and he made that apparently clear with the look he gave her. I never understood why he had any kind of hatred towards them. All people of color were always pleasant to us. This mentality seemed to have trickled down through generations, but that was no excuse for his behavior.

Before we went to sleep for the night I told my parents I had to go to the restroom. Instead, I snuck back to the front entrance where the nice woman Miss Ella was, and apologized for my dad's behavior. She gave me the biggest hug ever and disappeared into the kitchen. She returned and said, "this is my famous sweet potato pie." Suddenly I knew why it was famous. I took a bite, and it melted in my mouth. It was the best thing I have ever eaten. After I drank a cup of milk, she said I should go back to my parents so they wouldn't be worried. I told her thank you and good night, but before I left I quickly grabbed the little black book out of my jacket that was hanging at the entrance. I ran back to our room to find my parents fast asleep.

I took my dad's flashlight out of his waist tool holster and sat on the floor at the end of the bed. The book was already falling apart, so I was very careful. In the beginning of the book from what I could see, It looked as if someone was learning how to write letters for the first time. I saw two different handwritings. Eventually letters turned into words and words turned into sentences. The first sentence I could make out said, "Thank you Susan for teaching me how to write." Another sentence said "I am a little black boy, and I am a slave." I really enjoyed the drawings of different leaves and herbs I saw occasionally throughout the book. He must have had a connection to nature and enjoyed being outdoors. I put the book down for the night and climbed in bed with my parents.

The next day my dad's crew arrived and we all went to see the new site. When we pulled up the sign was similar to the one at the motel, and it said Welcome to the Miller Plantation. For some reason this place felt familiar. The walls in the house were surprisingly intact, but I couldn't say the same for the floors. It was beyond dated, dusty, and needed to be gutted. This house was built in the 1800s and probably considered a mansion during that time. It contained a basement and ten to twelve rooms between two floors. At this very moment my dad knew that he was in over his head.

My dad picked up the book titled The Willie Lynch Letter that was laying on the floor. Miss Marret had introduced it to me, but I couldn't get past the letter introduction. It is very gruesome, and the maltreatment of these innocent people was appalling. Ironically, I am glad he read it. His face was completely flushed for a week straight. He became so remorseful and even personally apologized for how he behaved to Miss Ella at the motel. It changed him for the better in which he never once again mistreated anyone.

The work on the house was taking so much longer than expected. Months turn into two and a half years. Miss Marret had been allowed periodically to go back home. Meanwhile my parents finances had plummeted. They sold our house in New York, because all the expenses were too much to handle. To cut costs we all, including dad's crew moved into the finished parts of the house. There's nothing like being woken up by the sound of a drill early in the morning.

I was stuck here, and the only thing to keep me company was the little black book. I read a little each day. I discovered that Jonathan was the little boy's name, and we had about everything in common. His love for helping people, and nature's gift of herbs made him want to become an herbal doctor. People always noticed my leaf-like birthmark, and believed I was destined to go work in that profession.

I read the last few sentences of the book. The last written page ended with a beautiful drawing of a leaf. It looked so familiar I couldn't stop staring at it. Wait! No, this can't be... I immediately ran and looked at my right shoulder in the mirror, and there it was. My birthmark was an exact replica of this drawing, down to the very last detail.

I am the soul of Jonathan living through another lifetime. I went to close the book, but on the very back cover was a letter. I immediately recognized Susan's handwriting. It said, "I am so sorry for what happened to you after my father, your master caught us together. I tried to stop it, but by the time I freed myself from the rope bounding my dad had me in... I was too late. The beating was too much for your body to handle and you passed shortly after.

Our best times together were when you taught me how to pan for gold in the nearby river. I put all the gold we collected in your favorite spot in the basement. I will never forget you, Love Susan." After wiping my tears, I immediately ran down to the untouched basement. Deep in my soul I knew exactly where to look. Near the far corner of the room there was a picture of people that my soul recognized. It was me, my family and the rest of the slaves. Behind the picture frame was a deep hole. The cloth bag of gold I pulled out was about fifty pounds. It was worth over a million dollars.

With the money, I bought back our house. I updated Miss Ella from a motel to a hotel. The city bought the plantation house and declared it a historical building. Mom and dad retired, and one of dad's crew members took over the business. Last but not least, I continued to live on the legacy I didn't get to accomplish in my first lifetime. I am the doctor and CEO of Jonathan's and Susan's Herbal International Medical Hospital.