I remember the first time I died I was about five. I had an asthma attack. I was in the back of my aunt’s car with my mom driving to the hospital. I heard my mom whispering or praying for me to open my eyes. I did. I remember the street lights and the sound of cars. I closed my eyes again. The next time I opened them I was in the hospital listening to my mom talking to the doctor about treatment but I remember something else. Quietness and the dark, just empty space and I knew it was a place that I didn’t want to be so I came back.