I don’t remember how I came into existence. I don’t think I was born like the others. I don’t remember a childhood or a sibling or a parent. I just was and always has been. No beginning and really no ending in sight. I'm fine with that. I think the travelers put so much thought into what they once were or what they still have left to do in their own realities; the reality that isn’t here.

This place doesn’t have an exact name and it changes for a lot of the travelers. Some call this place limbo, purgatory, the void, Bardo, Summerland; the list goes on. I call this place home and, although I didn’t have a childhood similar to any of the travelers, I did learn and grow here. I learned how to help them, how to listen to them. I enjoy it for the most part, but sometimes it’s very lonely. No one ever stays, no one ever wants to. I’m not sure they could.

A deep sigh escapes me as I ponder this for the millionth time. I’m fine with it, really. I tell myself. Who am I trying to convince anyways? My home is pleasant and warm. There’s sunlight that beams through the slightly dusty windows, giving life to the many plants. There are vines reaching their leafy arms over the door-frames, windows, and white bricked walls. Tulips, daises, and lilies cluttered around most of the surfaces. A small, cozy love seat that faces the large oak bookshelves lining the wall and between them a small coffee table made of a large amethyst geode I found many moons ago. The kitchen is directly behind the love seat with large, open windows above the sink. There are many different types of ingredients and food products in the cabinets and refrigerator. They don’t go bad and anything you can think of wanting will always be in there. I don’t have much use for food, but the travelers sometimes find comfort in a hot tea or some chocolate chip cookies. You see, not only do people get lost. This place is for everything that is lost, whether it be a simple fashion magazine or a large amethyst geode you can use for a coffee table. I even get useful guides for building, decorating, and caring for plants. It’s my way of connecting to a world I have never seen so I can understand the travelers and help them more. Sometimes I feel like one of them when I wear their clothes and speak like they do.

I don’t travel too far outside of my home here, there really isn’t much need. I have a large garden paved with stones and crystals. An iron bench sits in the middle surrounded by beautiful wildflowers of every color and variety. I enjoy watching the bees collect pollen and fly about with one another. The birds sing the most wonderful songs as they glide about with no worries. Here there are no predators, no worries, or even death. I have never seen any animals other than birds and insects. Its bliss and calm mostly, the weather is almost always sunny and bright. The travelers take much comfort in this and most of them are confused by the thought of this in-between world being so wonderful and calm.

I take a seat on the loveseat, sinking into its cushions as I snuggle my body into it. I get that familiar tickle in my brain and jump up excitedly, “A traveler!” I exclaim as I rush to the door.

Before they have a chance to knock the door swings open and I see a man before me.“H-Hi, uhm, I think I’m a bit disoriented. I don’t know where I am, but I saw your home and thought maybe you could help me. I can’t find my phone or... Uhm, really anything else.”

I stare at him, slightly bewildered. All of the travelers that come here always know what happened and are angry or sad or just confused on where to go after they pass in their own reality. They always know. I’m only supposed to be here to help guide them on where they go next and to talk them through what next reality options are there for them. To give options and help show the way. “You don’t remember anything?” I ask, panicking slightly. Don’t panic.

He puts his hands on his head, grabbing and rubbing at his short dark brown hair. His expression changes like he’s straining so hard to remember anything. “I-I don’t even remember my name. What’s happening? Please, I don’t understand.” He says in an increasingly panicked tone. Behind him the clouds begin to deepen in color. A gentle wind picks up, delicately swaying the many wind chimes strung along the front of my home.

Shit. “Come inside, it’s okay. Everything is okay. Let’s get you some tea or something.” I beckon him inside and gesture towards the loveseat, “Sit, please. I’ll do everything I can to help you; it’s my job."