My keys are by the door.
My car is parked on the street.
My mug is in the sink,
a splash of cream and coffee still marinating
at the bottom of the cup.
I don’t have to see it to know it’s true.
That is where I left them.
That is where they’ll be.

Our brains contain object-trace cells.
Those powerful little neural networks.
The electric signals that fire wildly to cue
where we left the things we’ll need.
We draw a map in our minds.
We trace our steps.
We try desperately to find and remember
the where of important things.

I have had such beautiful things
to herd and hoard,
to harbor and hold dear.
I cling tight to the knowing
they are exactly as I left them.
I beg myself to believe
I don’t need to see to know.

Sometimes though, I check and they’re gone.
These human shaped holes
in the space-time continuum.
I am surprised every time
I misplace them.
I trace my steps.
I consult the map in my mind.
I fire the signal to clue me in.

Somewhere my first dog is curled
at the foot of my bed.
My grandmother is baking in the kitchen.
The smell of German chocolate cake
fills her entire home.
My sweet friend fell asleep on my couch.
I can hear their snores if I listen closely.

My brother is jumping on the trampoline.
He’s excited to film “wrestlemania” after dinner.
My mom’s spaghetti is on the stove.
The summer sun is shining down on me.
I am cloaked in safety and warmth.
I pat my inner child’s back.
I am right here.