Beach Drive

I really wonder if the body has a memory all of its own. I was on the bus today on the way to take my monkey to the beach. We were pack down with two large bags full of everything necessary for a fun day at the beach. We had buckets for making sand castles, sifters, shovels a trowel, spiny things, a tent for shade, snacks, sun screen hats and more. We were set to have an amazing time. Then, my chest started to tighten, my breath started to quicken my anxiety went up and I couldn't figure out why I was panicking. We turned a corner and then BOOM! The house I had my final midwife appointment popped into view and it got worse. I sat there looking down on my little girl slung to me in her tula and just kept breathing as she kept dinning in my bra. One could say that I knew it was coming; but to be fair, I was quite lost in that neighborhood, it was a different season and I didn't even know the address of the place nor where I was. So why is it my body knew before I did that this was where my hell began? Why did it act so strongly when I didn't realize what was going on?